Misadventures of an Unwilling Soldier
by CrystallineX
Summary: This is the story of a girl who, upon realizing she had been reborn in the Naruto universe, does her best to keep her head down and stay an auxiliary character. So of course the universe too, does its best to thwart her at every turn. OCSelfInsert
1. Going Under and Being Re…what

A/N: For me, this is a highly experimental piece of writing. I wanted to try my hand at writing in 1st person (aka getting used to messing with the present and past tense), and I figured the best way to start out would be by doing a self-insert. Plus, I wanted to write a Naruto story.

* * *

 **Misadventures of an Unwilling Soldier**

* * *

Prologue

* * *

She was known for her decisiveness.

They didn't know she knew how much grief one could get from being a pushover.

She was acknowledged for her use of seals.

They didn't know she needed to keep her kanji handwriting skills in shape.

She was infamous for taking prisoners.

They didn't know she did it because she didn't have the stomach to kill.

She was hailed as a prodigy.

They didn't know she had an extra nineteen years of a different life.

* * *

 **Going (six feet) Under and Being Re… _what!?_**

* * *

The last thing I remember before closing my eyes is breathing in a sickly sweet smell that put me under for a brain surgery.

Next thing, I'm crying because that's the only way I can breathe.

The head surgeon warned me to expect disorientation, loss of speech, and paralysis of my right-side after the surgery, fully recoverable via rehabilitation so my poor confused neurons could find new pathways since their original pathways had been removed. Well, they did warn me, so I was prepared for the disorientation.

I did not expect a blinding headache.

I did not expect to suddenly find breathing so difficult that I had to cry at the top of my lungs in order to access precious oxygen.

I did not expect to have my whole body be swathed up and rocked back and forth, even though it did give me a little comfort. Wasn't I supposed to be lying still on a hospital bed?

I did not expect to open my eyes and see a red-haired man looking down at me, eyes full of wonder.

I did not expect to hear Japanese being spoken. My family was _Korean._ I had learnt Japanese in middle school, and while I was stiltedly conversational, I had never attained fluency. I could not watch Japanese movies without subtitles. Still, I knew enough to understand what the man said.

" _Hello my beautiful daughter. My green princess."_

God have mercy, what was going on?

…

Between dealing with stabbing headaches and napping, I pieced together an outrageous theory, but a theory nonetheless.

The supposedly simple, procedural, brain surgery had gone wrong, and I was in an induced coma, and dreaming, which was unlikely, since comas had no sleep cycles.

That or I had died. And been reborn. Into a Japanese family. I'd never see my original family again. That took some time for me to get over. I'd never said good-bye to my friends. I'd never said good-bye to my sister, who was my best friend for all our nine-year gap.

Either way, that neurosurgeon better get sued for malpractice and incompetence. The possibility of dying from the procedure I was going through was nigh impossible for any neurosurgeon who had gotten a medical license.

After accepting that I was either delirious or reincarnated, I grieved for my loss by crying my eyes out. Hey, I was a baby. Crying was acceptable behavior for a baby.

Speaking of babies…being a baby, there are pros and cons, the cons being rather more obvious to my nineteen-year-old mind.

My sense of time was skewed, as my sleeping patterns were off as well. I slept approximately twenty times since I was reborn, but had no idea how many days had passed.

My head was heavy. Heavy as in, to the point that I couldn't lift it. It was one thing to know that babies' heads were big in relation to their bodies, but quite another to experience it while being conscious of it. I also got headaches. Which I highly doubted was normal.

But however many days over which I slept twenty times was not _all_ ill-spent. Between sleeping, nursing, and…other bodily functions…I learned that what I first thought was 'Green' was simply my supposed name, 'Midori'. Well, not an uncommon name for Japanese girls. I knew this because of a famous violinist named Midori that I'd been forced to listen to since I was a toddler in my previous life. The 'Princess' part was just a pet name.

My biological father's and mother's names were Akai and Michiru, respectively. Still not quite sure what my surname is, but baby steps. Metaphorically, since I'm not even at that stage of development. My head is still too heavy, and it's hard to keep it in balance whenever I try to push my pitifully weak and vulnerable body up to crawl. It's hard enough to roll over, and whenever I do, my parents undo all my hard work by placing me on my back again. Gah.

I understand why my father is named Akai: his hair looks naturally red, so I guessed that he was named after the color of his hair, as inane as that sounds. I hope my hair isn't green, though Michiru pulls off mint-green hair reasonably well. My bored, sleepy, and headache-y mind concluded that I was probably named after a color in honor of my father, and the first syllable of my name was after my mother.

Anyway, what really hit me though, was that my biological father's uniform looked familiar.

It looked suspiciously like a ninja uniform from a certain manga I'd been reading in my down time. And seeing the red spirals on his back and sleeves…

My brain put two and two together remarkably quickly for one that had headaches ranging from dull ringing to head-splitting.

Oh, hang it all.

So either the whole surgery had gone wrong and I was in a coma that somehow allowed me to dream, or I was really in Konohagakure.

The fictional village of a fictional country of a fictional world in the fictional universe of Naruto.

What the hell.

…

Finally, my stubby and chubby limbs had strengthened enough for me to roll over and crawl. When Michiru-My-Mother saw this, she clapped her hands with joy and saying some Japanese encouragement chant sort of thing mixed with my name…I think. It was at that point I realized I understood less of colloquial Japanese than I thought. But I did understand when she sat down on the floor and held out her arms to me and said, "Come here, Midori-chan. Come to Kaa-chan."

The fact that I understood the simpler phrases my parents said was comforting. In that aspect, I was ahead of other babies, as sad as that may sound. But halfway to Michiru, it occurred to me that at some point I would have to learn kanji. The Japanese version of Chinese characters, but arguably harder in the fact that there were many different ways to read them. Kanji was the reason I gave up Japanese in the first place. I knew several radicals…but what help would those be!? At these thoughts, tears came to my eyes and a whimper escaped my lips, prompting Michiru to come and pick me up, soothing me as she rocked me back and forth, murmuring something about not pushing myself, as she apparently thought my tears to be the result of overexertion.

My first priority was to get control over this tiny, disproportionate body…

…

The next indeterminate length of time, I worked on my motor skills enough to crawl very quickly and walk with support. I took care not to wake Michiru and Akai up by crying whenever I woke up and it was dark outside. In fact, I only cried when the headaches got too much for me to bear, or when I needed a diaper change, because not only was it uncomfortable, but _boy_ , did it smell _bad_.

And another thing? Teething hurts like hellfire. It's worse than a mosquito bite, because you _can't scratch your gums_. Well, you can, but it doesn't give even the illusion of alleviating the itch like scratching a mosquito bite would. It aches, and aches, and _aches_. I gnawed on every gummy thing that I could get my hands on, just for temporary relief. I nearly cried in frustration when my two lower front teeth slowly grew in. How many more of these sensations would I have to endure? I had no idea how many teeth babies had!

I did not realize that my parents were a bit distressed by my display of emotions, or lack thereof, until I had listened to enough Japanese to pick up some more vocabulary and be able to understand and keep up with the speed at which they spoke.

"She doesn't laugh, she doesn't smile…she doesn't even cry that often. I'm worried for Midori. She's so…quiet."

"You think there's something wrong with her?" Akai asked, frowning. "She's just a calm baby."

"I want to take her to get - " They were moving away from the crib, and there were still a lot of words that I didn't understand, but I heard Michiru-My-Mother mention something about a doctor.

Great. They thought something about my development was wrong, all because I was too quiet. Well, I suppose I could throw them a bone and say some words. At least then I could have an excuse to ask some questions.

Later that night, I said my 'first' word. "Kaa?" After all, it was only fair, Michiru-My-Mother was the one who stayed with me during the day.

Michiru was delighted. "Akai!" She called out, excited. "Midori-chan said her first word! I think she was trying for 'kaa-chan'! Come one, Midori, one more time! Ka-a-chan." She enunciated it clearly, so the least I could do was try my best, even with my baby tongue.

"Kaaa-channn." I repeated obediently. Then, just to mess with him, I pointed at Akai and exclaimed, "Aaakaaii!" At his face expression, I giggled.

"No!" He protested. "No, Midori-hime, say, 'tou-chan'." He pointed to himself and said slowly, "To-u-cha-n."

I shook my head. "Akaaiii!"

Michiru broke out into giggles as well. In between giggles, she managed to chide me, "No, Midori-chan. He's your father. Your tou-chan."

Scooping me up into his arms, he said, "Yes, I'm your tou-chan."

I reached out a chubby arm and tugged on his long red hair. "Akaaaai."

Akai gave Michiru a woeful look. "This is your fault, Michiru. You call me by my name too often in front of Midori-hime."

"Well, at least she knows her colors."

I'd better, especially since I remembered hiragana and katakana from my past life. There were educational posters and padding everywhere in the nursery, a color chart being among them. Say what you want about these parents who should be, by all rights, fictional, but they did have my best interests in mind. Akai wasn't around much as he was busy with missions, but when he was, he always checked up on his 'green princess', cooing at me and taking pictures of supposed 'milestones' like when I first stood up. In my previous life, I had been the second child, so it wasn't as much of a novelty. Heck, they hadn't even known my blood-type until right before my surgery, and that was only because I was curious. Come to think of it, what was my blood-type now?

"Are we still taking Midori-hime to the doctor's?"

"Well, she needs a checkup. It's been six months. She's ahead physically, but from what I heard from my friends, Midori-chan's behavior doesn't exactly match up to even the genius in the Uchiha clan my friend mentioned."

Uchiha genius? Which one? Itachi?

But it occurred to me that I only needed to know if I wanted to change the story.

Which I don't, not really.

I wasn't really invested in any Naruto characters besides Naruto. Or Itachi, poor guy. _Maybe_ Neji, but as much as I wished for him to keep his dad if only to save him from the fatalistic mindset, he played a major role in Naruto and Hinata's growth. And Lee's.

How many butterflies would I step on by attempting to change the timeline?

Forget that, I didn't even know exactly _where_ I was in the timeline, besides the fact that it was pre-Uchiha massacre. I would just be an auxiliary character. An extra. Not significant enough to change the storyline.

Though I didn't want to be a civilian. For one thing, Naruto's world had people dying and injured left and right. I needed _some_ protection. Akai bought me a rubber kunai and was probably expecting me to follow his footsteps, for another. Plus, I thought the idea of utilizing chakra was really cool.

I decided right then and there, in my six-months-old body, headache or no, that I would train to be a ninja. Whether I _became_ a ninja after training…well, that would be another matter entirely.

…

The doctor's visit was full of words I didn't understand. My knowledge of medical terminology in English was sketchy at best, so why would I think to learn it in Japanese? But since it was an MRI they were looking at, thanks to my preparation for brain surgery, I knew what a normal brain looked like, even if they hadn't attached an MRI scan of a normal baby's brain next to mine.

There were marked differences, and if I didn't know what ' _dainouhishitsu_ ' meant before, I certainly did after the doctor pointed at my cerebral cortex. More specifically, the outer layer of it. Where memories are stored. The outer layer of my cerebral cortex looked swollen in comparison to the normal scan, explaining my constant headache. Should've known nineteen years' worth of memories crammed into a baby's brain wouldn't look pretty or feel pleasant.

I prayed that Michiru-My-Mother wouldn't demand a Yamanaka to search my brain, though truthfully, I rather thought a Yamanaka would think rummaging through a baby's brain a waste of their talents and time. Thankfully, no mentions of the name 'Yamanaka' were made, and Michiru took me home, her confused but relieved face expression telling me mountains more than the few words I could understand had.

While my mother may have been relieved, I was baffled and disturbed, as I finally found out my surname: Uzumaki.

Though that explained Akai's red hair, it certainly mucked things up, because as far as I knew, the only Uzumaki in Konoha were Mito, Kushina, and Naruto. What the heck was Tou-chan doing alive? Not that I minded, because I had grown fond of him over the six months I'd lived as his daughter. But this shook up my knowledge of the storyline.

Was this some alternate timeline? Would everything be different?

My ever-present headache grew stronger, and not for the first time, I wished I possessed the dexterity and strength to massage my temples to alleviate at least some of the pain. Shame my body couldn't handle painkillers yet.

…

My headaches grew so terrible at times Morpheus was the only solace I could find. It hurt to keep my eyes open, or closed for that matter, because it felt like searing-hot needles were stabbing into the back of my eyes. If I hadn't seen the MRI results myself, I would have thought there was something wrong with my brain all over again. As it was, my swollen cerebral cortex was literally a pain in my eyeballs.

Apparently the doctor's suggestion had been to expose me to toddlers my age, though my parents seemed to have a hard time finding any. Why were there so few children? Was it war time? I included the possibility of the Third Shinobi War to the current possible timeline. If I had landed in the Second Shinobi War…I didn't remember anything from that timeline. It wasn't like I memorized the entirety of the Naruto plot.

Michiru-My-Mother had apparently ransacked the village population for toddlers and reached the end of her rope, as one day, I woke up in a large, unfamiliar playpen full of black-haired children of varying ages.

In fact, everybody in sight had black hair, and I had an uncomfortable suspicion about where I was even before I saw the red and white uchiwa crest on the wall.

Perhaps Michiru had gone to meet some friends? Or get groceries? I wonder why she had left me in what seemed like the Uchiha community playpen, and whether it was a last resort or not. I did appreciate the change in scenery, though the change in company was yet to be seen. I already spied a matron who kept a watchful eye on the Uchiha playpen.

Clumsily, I stood up, accruing the attention of several pairs of black eyes.

Hookay. As several Uchiha kids approached me curiously, the playpen felt a great deal smaller than before, despite not having changed size at all. Feeling rather like an animal in a zoo – scratch that, a rabbit among lions – I slowly backed up. Which turned out to be a mistake, since I bumped into something else.

Whirling around with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, I saw another toddler, who looked a bit closer to my current physical age. He was different from the others because of his unruly hair. I had the sense to say with baby-ish pronounciation, "Oops. Sowwy." Before toddling away from the crowding Uchiha kids as fast as I was able, making a bee line for the corner.

The toddler I had bumped into was bigger than I was, and had followed me to the corner. With a toothy smile that revealed his many baby teeth, he chirped, "Hi! I'm Shishi! You?"

"Midori." I said quietly. I had very little intention of getting attached to someone who might get massacred in the future. It was bad enough I was seeing the Uchiha in person as it humanized them, tempting me to change the future. Which would not do.

"Cool! You know you have pwetty eyes? And your hair's cool too!"

I hadn't ever been around reflective surfaces to see what I looked like, much less know what color my eyes and hair were, and it wasn't like a toddler's taste meant much to me, but I scuffed my foot on the rubber tiles at his remark. I had never been good at taking compliments. "Thanks." I cast my mind around for something to compliment Shishi back with. "You're vewy fwendly." G'dangit, it was hell to say things with an intentional lisp. I just hoped I wouldn't cultivate bad habits.

"Yap! 'S what Dad's like too, an' I wanna be like him!" He picked up a rubber kunai and offered it to me. "Wanna play?"

So we sat down and played with toy kunai and rubber shuriken, bouncing them off the walls until Michiru came to take me back.

…

Another time – I had endured the growth of two more milk teeth by then – I woke up to a voice cooing over me and asking for permission to pick me up. My parents gave the green light, and I found myself looking up at what looked like a female version of Akai.

"Hi. Are you Tou-chan's y'nger sister?" Was what I was saying as my mind thought that this must be Kushina, thereby eliminating the possibility of the Second Shinobi War.

"Close. We're cousins. You can call me Kushina-nee-chan!" Kushina turned to my parents and asked, "Does she know what cousins are?"

"Probably not." Akai answered.

Futilely, I attempted to rub my headache away. It must have seemed cute as Kushina giggled and said, "She's so cute! And her hair will make a good camouflage when she becomes a kunoichi."

I froze mid eye-rub. Oh no. My fear was being confirmed. No, there was still a chance that I possessed sandy blonde hair that would blend in perfectly with sand. Though that seemed highly unlikely from my parents' colorings…

"She'll be perfect in the forest-ttebane!"

…My fear was officially confirmed. At the horrific confirmation combined with my perpetual headache, I couldn't help but start wailing. Green hair. Green hair!? While green was my favorite color, especially forest green, it was _not_ my idea of an ideal hair color. Sure, green-streaked hair had sounded cool in middle school, but preschool? Little children were _mean._ As if it hadn't been enough to made made fun of for being the only Asian with 'funny small eyes' in school when I was a kid in my first life, I'd probably be made fun of for having _green hair._ What would my nickname be? Broccoli? Bush? Grass? A multitude of inane names ran through my mind as Kushina hastily passed me to Michiru-My-Mother.

The distressing thoughts, however, were offset by the fact I now knew it was before the Kyuubi attack. If it was still going to happen.

Once I calmed down, I asked, "C'n I learn the henge?"

My parents patronizingly explained that I didn't have enough chakra control to be able to handle the transformation technique. I'd have to find some leaves somewhere to practice chakra control. Perhaps I could trick Akai into bringing some back for me.

…

Something was tickling my face and I sneezed myself awake. Enveloped in strong arms that were gently rocking me, I opened my eyes to see familiar red hair brushing against the tip of my nose.

"Nnh? Tou-san?" I murmured sleepily.

"Shh, Midori-hime. There's a good girl." Akai's face looked melancholy. "Tou-chan just wants to see your face."

I mumbled, "You c'n see me if you're home more of'n."

His dark blue eyes saddened, "That's the thing, hime. This time I'll be gone for a long time. Months, at least."

My aching, tired mind didn't register the fact that we were living during the Third Shinobi War. "Promise you'll be back when I start th'Academy? Think I'll start when 'm three…"

Stroking my hair, Akai whispered, "I'll try my best, Midori-hime."

When I heard Michiru crying the next day I concluded Akai got deployed to the frontlines of the war, and realized how uncertain a ninja's life really was. How precious the time I spent with my tou-san was. How much I missed him already.

…

After Akai-tou-san got deployed, Michiru had started wearing a flak jacket, and I figured she must be taking missions within the village. I was spending more and more time at the Uchiha playpen. Apparently Shishi was asking after me, and Kaa-san was either pressured or bribed into leaving me there. It was there I first saw Uchiha Obito, and pegged down another hint for when I was in the Naruto timeline. Before the Kannabi bridge.

"Yo! Uchiha Obito is here!"

The matron whacked him on the head with an uchiwa.

"You'd think that after becoming a Chuunin, you'd be on time!"

I had no idea when Uchiha Obito became a Chuunin, so that little tidbit was of no help.

"Okay, okay. No need to get violent, Emi-oba-san! I'll look over the kids no problem!"

"If any one of them comes to harm - "

"It'll be fine! They'll be fine. Now go before these kids all grow up!"

A few moments after the lady – Emi, apparently – had slid the door closed, all the kids crowded at Obito like a hoard of ants to candy.

"'Bito-nii!"

"Obito-nii-san!"

Soon enough Shishi had joined the crowd, his voice soaring clearly over the others. "'Bitossan!"

Indignant, Obito cried out, "Hey, don't call me that! I'm not an old man."

He lifted Shishi up, much to the protests of the other children as though being lifted up were an honor that came first come first serve.

I couldn't imagine my old self voluntarily entering a playpen with so many kids all by my lonesome. Maybe one or two, as I had entertained my first-cousins once removed when my cousin was busy, but even playing with them tired me out. Entertaining a whole nursery? Madness. Obito must _really_ like children.

"Shisui, for the last time, call me 'nii-san'. 'Ossan' is something you call old men. I'm eleven!"

Two things jumped out at me from this sentence. First of all, Shishi was _Shisui!?_ I'd been bouncing projectile weapons with one of the aborted linchpins of the Uchiha Massacre!?

And Obito was eleven, effectively pinning the current timeline down as roughly two years before Kakashi Gaiden took place.

…things I only needed to know if I were entertaining the idea of changing the timeline.

Nope.

Not happening.

Besides, who would believe the baby who wasn't even a year old yet? Hey, they probably wouldn't believe me even if I were my original age! Screw that, I didn't have the _power_ to change the Kannabi bridge incident.

I didn't even realize tears were welling up in my eyes until Obito's orange goggles were in my face.

He lifted me up gently, cradling me in one arm and wiping my tears with his other hand. "Hey now, why are you crying? What's your name?"

"M-Midori." I sniffled out.

"That's a pretty name. My name is Obito. Now, won't you dry those tears and smile for me, Midori-hime?"

Instead of quelling my tears, Obito's words unintentionally induced more.

Shishi – no, he was _Shisui –_ pointed at Obito and accused, "Ah! You made Midori-chan cry! Bad 'Bitossan!"

Obito looked too panicked to correct Shisui. "What's wrong? Why are you crying even more?"

This wasn't something I'd normally cry over. What had happened to my stoic nineteen year-old mind? Was it being worn away via headache, giving way to a barely one year old psyche? "J-just…Tou-chan calls me Midori-hime. But he's not here."

Through my tears and through orange goggles, I just barely saw Obito's eyes soften. "I get it."

The rest of the time, Obito pays minimal attention to the other children, but pats me comfortingly on the back, every pat weakening my resolve to stay an auxiliary character and keep the integrity of the original timeline.

My resolve was paper-thin when my eyes drifted to a close. The last thought I had before I fell asleep was that I should ask Kaa-san to not leave me at the Uchiha playpen anymore.

* * *

A/N: Based upon the scenario of my 19 year-old self's brain-surgery having gone wrong. No Mary-Suing. My faults and flaws will be included. I funneled all my memories of being frustrated with speech and physical therapy into portraying the frustration, impatience, and vulnerability of being stuck in a baby's body.

A/N 2: I will only use Japanese terms for pronouns, titles, and jutsus. I will try to incorporate the meanings in the narrative so you don't have to refer to below.

Just in case:

Midori: Green  
Hime: Princess  
Akai: Red  
Kaa-san: Mom  
Tou-san: Dad  
Henge: Transformation  
Ossan: a rather rude way to address a middle aged man  
Nii-san: Older-brother  
Gaiden: tale/side-story


	2. Trying to Avoid Main Characters

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

A/N: This is as close as it gets to a SI, folks. If the narrator says something about her 'past life', it's literally true for me, the writer.

On the same note, I'm currently researching details like the difference between Obito and Kakashi's ages, and the rough estimate of Shisui's age compared to other characters'. But Midori's only going to have the knowledge pre-research me had.

* * *

 **Misadventures of an Unwilling Soldier**

* * *

 **Trying (and failing) to Avoid Main Characters**

* * *

I had no luck with trying to convince Kaa-san to let me stay at home. She probably thought that I should be with kids my own age more. So I switched tactics and said that all the Uchiha kids were boring. She listened said pathetic argument and proceeded to drop me off at the civilian playpen instead.

I nearly cried when I saw that Obito was babysitting there too, but it was worse. Four times worse, to be exact. The _entirety_ of Team Minato was there.

In fact, I _did_ cry, just to hamper Kaa-san's attempt to leave me behind with a team that would all save one die by the end of Naruto. I practically glued myself to her leg, and I saw her glance at Minato, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what – Midori! Stop – what's gotten into you today!"

Manga characters are being humanized to me, that's what's wrong! I don't want to see people who I know are going to die! I don't want to get to know them! I get attached easily!

"Dun leave me here!" was all I could say, without being ruder than I already was.

"You're usually so quiet – "

Firm arms clad in navy cloth with orange trimmings forced me to release Michiru's leg.

"Hey, aren't you Midori-hime? What are you doing here, instead of at the Uchiha playpen? Don't you want to play with shinobi toys?" I squirmed at Obito's voice, flailing and kicking in distress.

"No!" I screamed. _I scream, head scream, we all scream 'til my eyes scream_. Oy, my head. I slumped in Obito's arms, eyes hazy with pain that was almost visible.

"It's okay, you can leave Midori-hime with me." Obito assured my kaa-san, who nodded rather uncertainly, casting me a doubtful look. Yes, doubt me, Kaa-san, for I am not okay in these arms, one of which will be crushed by a boulder and the other laying in a cave with a decrepit Madara roughly two years from now. Get me away from these arms! I don't want to get any more attached than I already am!

So it was with great frustration that I watched Kaa-san dash away.

"My head hurts." I muttered after she had left. Obito smoothed my hair.

"Aw, Midori-hime, it'll be alright. You're nervous because you're not in the usual Uchiha playpen, right? All these new faces, of course you'll be nervous. Your kaa-chan will be back in no time."

He had hilariously managed to misunderstand the reason for my tantrum and my headache, but it was way more believable than the truth.

"You know this onion brat?"

I froze.

Oh no he didn't. Kakashi had _not_ just compared me to an _onion._

Though it did make sense, come to think of it. In a twisted way. My skin was a bit pale, and my hair was green. It was the perfect schoolyard nickname for me.

I slowly turned to stare right into Kakashi's eyes. He stared flatly back, cool as a cucumber. After a moment of utter silence, in which I completely forgot about my headache and all timeline related matters, I yowled and tried to leap from Obito's arms to tackle Kakashi. No such luck, as Obito's arms tightened around me at the last moment.

"Ignore him, Midori-hime. Kakashi's a jerk to everybody. He's being extra mean because he's grumpy that we're taking D-rank missions in our downtime."

I shot the mini-Kakashi the most venomous glare I could muster before Obito swung me around to introduce me to Rin and Minato.

"Sensei, Rin, this is Midori. Midori-hime, meet Minato-sensei and Nohara Rin. We met at the Uchiha playpen yesterday."

"Her eyes are so pretty!" Rin said to me. "You think she can understand me?" She asked Obito in a hushed voice.

As if I couldn't hear her. Hello, right here. "Yes, I understand you, Nohara-san." I said. I was _not_ pouting. My lower lip was in no way jutting out.

"Aw, she's pouting, so cute! We have a budding genius here. I'm sorry I underestimated you, Midori-chan." Rin's purple face-markings crinkled up as she smiled at me. I felt myself melt a bit. No! Stand strong! The integrity of the Naruto plotline hangs in the balance! Do not get attached!

"Midori-hime…Midori…Midori…" After murmuring my name to himself a few times, Minato looked like a lightbulb went off over his head. "Are you Uzumaki Akai's daughter?"

I nodded rapidly, despite the migraine that had settled back down on my head like a helmet. "You know him?" Of course he does, he's dating Kushina. But appearances, appearances… "Didjya talk to him? How is he? Does he talk about me'n Kaa-chan?"

Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, Minato admitted, "Sorry, I haven't heard from him, Midori-chan. You know Kushina, right?"

With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I nodded slowly. "She comes over sometimes."

"She talks about how cute you are." Minato smiled at me.

I managed to smile at this, even as I tried to quell the rising disappointment in me. I hadn't heard from my tou-san in months, and my physical body was almost a year-old now. I had tried to extract a promise that he would come back before I turn three. That left two years, but in a battlefield, even two seconds was plenty of time to die.

"Minato-san, d'you know where my tou-san is?" I asked, never hating my babyish voice as much as I did then.

Rin and Obito exchanged uneasy glances and Minato looked uncomfortable; figures they wouldn't want to explain what a war was to a toddler.

If I were still the sensitive person who cared about other people's comfort and how they viewed me, like I had been in my last life, I would have dropped the subject like a hot potato. In fact, I wouldn't have even brought up the subject in the first place. While I didn't care how these people – no, they were _characters –_ thought of me, I was merciful enough to spare them the discomfort of explaining of the concept of war to a 'baby'.

"I know he's fighting at war. But do you know where?"

Not that knowing exactly where Tou-san was stationed would do me any good. I didn't remember anything besides the Kannabi bridge.

…Perhaps the timeline could be pulled forward by destroying the bridge earlier? Then the Iwa shinobi supply route would be cut off, and fewer casualties –

NO. No changing anything.

"I'm sorry, Midori-chan. Only the Hokage and Jounin Commander know all the details of all their shinobi." And that was that. Minato looked apologetic, Rin and Obito pitying. I couldn't tell what Kakashi's face expression was, what with it being hidden under a mask. But I was fairly sure it would be blank, probably thinking along the lines of 'suck it up, at least you didn't come back home to your dad's corpse after he committed suicide on the day of your promotion'. Come to think of it, Kishimoto was a pretty sadistic dude when it came to the creation of his characters' backgrounds. It's a wonder his characters act as normally as they do.

For the rest of the time I was caged in the playpen, I gnawed irritably at my fingers with my itchy gums, an internal war raging within myself. Were the Iwa shinobi using the Kannabi bridge already? If, IF the Kannabi bridge were to be destroyed ahead of time, would Iwa simply find another route for their supplies? Or could they simply build another bridge, using a jutsu? No, if it were that easy to build a bridge, there would be bridges everywhere. Jutsu probably couldn't make a sturdy, permanent bridge. Civilians probably wouldn't trust a jutsu-made bridge, either.

But what the heck was I thinking about, for crying out loud? As a supposedly ignorant toddler, I had no power and no influence. Getting anybody to take me seriously would be impossible.

So I spent all my time in a sulk, the civilian toddlers giving me a wide berth as they seemed to sense something was different about me – besides my hair color. They all had blonde, brown, or black hair. I thought I saw the odd purple like Anko, or pink like Sakura, but their hair wasn't _green._ At some point Obito tried to engage me in a game with the other kids, but it was readily apparent that my limbs were too short to play.

It seemed like an agonizingly long time before Kaa-san came back to pick me up, and I reattached myself to her leg as I had earlier.

"I'm so sorry, was Midori a lot of trouble? She's being unusually clingy today." She apologized to team Minato. She knelt down and picked me up. "What's wrong, Midori-chan?" She put a cool hand to my forehead. "You don't have a fever…"

I spoke my thoughts truthfully for the first time in what seemed like forever. No calculating, no ulterior motives. "I miss Tou-chan."

Face softening into one of melancholy understanding, Kaa-san replied, "Me too, Midori-chan, me too."

Apparently my birthday was that week, so Kaa-san took the day off to invite a select few people to celebrate.

Just a few people.

 _Only_ the main character's parents, the future antagonist, and Shisui with his dad.

My head hurt.

The only person invited to this party who hadn't been mentioned in the manga was Shisui's father.

It was the first time I'd been so afraid of my own birthday party.

I nervously toddled around my playpen, trying to avoid getting further attached to Shisui. But I knew a lost cause when I saw one. I had grown fond of the genius toddler over the time I'd known him as 'Shishi'. Even if I pushed him away now, I'd inevitably mourn him anyway. So I resigned myself to enjoying his friendship until the Uchiha Massacre.

As Shisui had said, his dad, Uchiha Kyouei, was quite a friendly man, especially for an Uchiha. I think.

I don't really know why most readers assume all the Uchiha are stuck up sticks in the mud. Well, possibly because the only Uchiha alive for most of the series didn't display the most glittering personalities…but didn't Tobirama say the Uchiha feel _too much_? Enough that he coined the phrase 'Uchiha Curse of Hatred'? Well, he may also have mentioned that the Uchiha sealed off their emotions…but how was that possible? They're humans like everybody else.

As ruminating on stereotypes with dubious origins made my cranium ring more unpleasantly than usual, I spoke to Kyouei the most during the small gathering, as he was the only man that raised no guilty feelings within me when I talked to him. He genuinely seemed like a good person – not that I was known to be a good judge of character – but hey, he had raised Shisui to be a good man, after all. He was probably Kagami's son…? Feeling curious, I outright asked him.

"Hey Kyou-san, what's your name mean?" Well, it didn't feel right just asking him out of the blue, so I would build up to it.

Looking curious at my question, Kyouei replied, "It means 'reflecting mirror'. 'Kyou' is 'mirror', and 'ei' is 'reflect'. Why?"

"Then what's your dad's name? And what does it mean?" I deflected his question with more of my own.

Kyouei looked taken aback for all of a moment before he laughed, a warm sound. "Well don't we have a curious one here!" Grinning at me, Kyouei said, "His name was Uchiha Kagami. Kagami means 'mirror' as well. Anything else you would like to ask me, little one?"

Ha! I was right, Kagami _was_ his father! Well, he _had_ asked me whether I had more questions…I tilted my head, trying to look innocent. Not sure if I succeeded, but meh. "What does Shishi's name mean? Four four? Eight?"

Everybody within hearing range snorted when I voiced that ridiculous interpretation. Shisui himself perked up at his current name pronunciation and started toddling over to us, to which Kyouei gave Shisui an exasperated but fond look. "Still can't say his own name right, that Shisui." He turned to me with an amused smile, and asked, "Let's see if you can get it right before he does, hm? That'd be a right laugh. Repeat after me: Shi-su-i."

"Shi-shu-i?" Purposefully botching it wasn't hard, as my tongue wasn't quite developed yet. Give me a break, my body was just a year old.

"Close, but not quite. Again. Shi-su-i." He punctuated every syllable.

"Shi. Su. Ee." I managed, and by that time, Shisui had finally made it over to us.

"You're talkin' 'bout me." He accused halfheartedly.

Kyouei picked me up and placed me on his shoulder, smirking down at Shisui, "Just how to pronounce your name."

At this, Shisui pouted. "Not my fault I can't say it yet."

"Oh? Because Midori-chan here pronounced your name perfectly just now."

Shisui shot me a bafflingly indignant look. "She did?"

I felt Kyouei's head bob beside me. "Yes…and she's younger than you. So you have no excuse!" Keeping a gentle but firm hold on me with one hand, he attacked Shisui with the other, tickling him. "Practice! As your father I demand you to practice pronouncing your name!" He was relentless until Shisui laughed and cried that he would. By then, Obito had joined the tickle war. While I'd been less prone to ticklishness in my previous life, apparently I had many ticklish spots in this new one.

"H-hey! Ish my birdday!" I cried out in helpless laughter.

Obito lifted me up and gave me a toothy grin. "So it is. And it's time to open your presents, birthday girl!"

I hadn't been a wrapping tearer by any means in my last life, and I wasn't going to start now. However, I realized every eye was on me and my currently snail-like fine motor skills and felt a bit bad. In the end, Kaa-san helped me, deftly slicing the wrappings open with a kunai that she kept far out of my reach. Minato and Kushina had gotten me a mobile fashioned from near invisible ninja wire, the theme obviously being 'ninja', what with all the colorful kunai and shuriken floating around. With the odd Whirlpool and Konoha insignia mixed in, it was patriotic to both Tou-san and Kushina's roots and my current village. Thanking them, I turned to the next present, from Shisui, obviously bought with his dad's help. It was a toy chokuto. Curiously, I ran my finger along the 'blade' of the sword, wondering what store would manufacture miniature weapons to give to children as toys.

"Now we c'n play with _swords_ , 'nstead of just rubber shuriken all day!" Shisui gave me an adorable smile, and I couldn't help but smile back.

The next present was hastily wrapped and so _Obito_ that I couldn't hold back a giggle that escaped my left my lips. Obito shifted and winced, almost looking like he wanted to take the present back. It was a pair of goggles, his cast-offs judging from the slightly battered-looking lenses. He had painted his old goggles green on the sides in order to give it a semblance of being new. Scuffing his foot on the floor and looking a not just a little embarrassed, he muttered, "Hope you like it. Sorry if it's not – " he stopped short when I gave him – or rather his knee – a hug.

Don't get me wrong. I hadn't grown attached to him, and I wasn't going to save him. But he looked so ashamed of his present that the nineteen year old in me couldn't help but want to comfort the eleven year old child, and tell him that it was the heart that counts.

But people would find those words a bit odd coming from a toddler who had just turned a year old to someone ten years her senior.

So the only thing I could do was to _show_ him how much his effort was appreciated by hugging him. (Or his knee.)

I looked up at him and said sincerely, "Thanks. I love it."

Behind his goggles, Obito's eyes widened, and I thought I saw them water a bit.

Last of all was a present from my kaa-san. It wasn't wrapped but merely in a flat wooden box, which I found a bit odd. As Kaa-san helped me open the box, and my eyes were drawn to a set of brushes.

Oh no.

No no _no_.

I schooled my baby face into something what I hoped looked like curious wonder even as I looked at the dreaded calligraphy set right before me.

When I had been in Korea for a vacation and briefly taken lessons learning the Korean version of Kanji, it had not been pretty. I had been the only high school student in a sea of elementary school students learning what twenty characters meant each day. To my further humiliation, I had to start from the bare bone basics for what should have been the calligraphy corresponding to the Chinese characters we were learning. I struggled to learn the right way to grind the ink stick, hold the brush, and make smooth vertical and horizontal brush strokes…right next to a particularly scholarly kid gliding through Chinese adages one after another (all while shooting me pitying looks). By the end of the vacation, I'd gotten better at calligraphy by leaps and bounds (meaning I'd caught up to the average elementary school student). The instructor had been startled at how quickly I'd improved, and lamented at how my talent had been wasted by starting the discipline too late. I, on the other hand, had thought good riddance, as my humiliation had cemented my bad impression of calligraphy forever. And ever, even to my current life.

Which left me staring at the calligraphy set before me. Five brushes of different sizes, an ink stone, and a single ink stick with a scroll neatly nestled at the end.

Right.

I was an Uzumaki.

Seals.

Kanji.

 _Calligraphy._

Dammit.

"When I was pregnant with you, your father searched long and hard for something remotely similar to the Uzumaki-starter kit every Uzushio child started with. In the end, he couldn't find any that matched his standards, so he made one instead." Kaa-san looked slightly wistful, and Kushina's eyes had misted over, lost in memories of her lost village.

Her words broke me out of my thoughts of how horrible calligraphy was. My tou-chan had _made_ this kit. That alone made this calligraphy set precious to me. Looking closely, I saw that the brushes were child-sized, made so even my small chubby hands could hold and control them. While he wasn't here in body, he was here in spirit. I gave a watery smile.

Clearing her throat, Kushina said, "It certainly looks like a proper Uzumaki starter kit! When I have a kid," Minato flushed at this, "I'll have to ask Akai-nii to make one-ttebane!" It was an attempt to break the solemn atmosphere and her sadness of losing her village and clan.

"Nara-sama kicked him out of the compound after the fifth time Akai was caught sneaking in to shave their deer." Kaa-san giggled. "Akai learned a thing or two from that incident, so he took to volunteering at the Inuzuka kennels for the other hairs. He caught other animals too."

Everybody chuckled.

Kushina's jaw dropped, "Wait, when Akai-nii was carrying that wolf…"

"Yes, Akai _did_ get a bit overzealous with the project." Kaa-san mused.

"A _wolf?_ " Obito yelped. "Yikes!"

"Well, he let it go afterwards. Something about hair from a live animal being silkier."

"Ho… He captured it live?" Kyouei sounded impressed. "That's impressive, wolves are tricky creatures to trap."

Obito grumbled, "I still think it's overkill. All to make a brush? I don't understand why he had to to such lengths to get hairs from so many different animals."

"Going to such lengths in order to pass down one's culture to his child is admirable." Minato chided his student.

"Still, when I came back from the doctor's one time and the house smelled like an Uchiha training ground…" Kaa-chan shot the Uchiha faction of the party an apologetic glance at Obito's sound of protest. "Well, it smelt of burnt trees. Though come to think of it, it also smelt of greasy fish."

Kushina huffed out a laugh. "That must have been from the binding of the ink sticks! I remember smelling mackerel whenever I went out to buy ink sticks. Seeing how there's only one stick here, the rest must be in the storage scroll next to it."

Minato knelt beside me and said, "Midori-chan, you're very lucky to have such a father."

I nodded mutely. I had never known how much it took to put together a single calligraphy set, and now that I did, I stood in awe of my tou-san's sheer determination to give me the best. After a thirteen year's worth of hand-me-downs until I had grown bigger than my sister, this was just…I felt my eyes film over with tears.

"Don't worry Midori-chan, I'll tutor you in your dad's place!" Kushina pointed a thumb at herself proudly.

I hugged Kaa-san and Kushina in turns.

The party wound down when Shisui and I yawned, around the same time. As I waved goodbye to everybody after the party, I thought that for all that it had started on a nerve-wracking note, all in all, this birthday party didn't turn out so bad after all.

…

At first, I was reluctant to touch, much less use, the pristine kit that Tou-san had made, but Kaa-san quickly broke me out of such thoughts.

"Your daddy made this specially for you. It was _made_ to be used, and your daddy will be very sad when he comes back and finds it in a corner with dust piled up on it."

The times Kushina wasn't busy with a mission, she came to tutor me in calligraphy. I already knew the basics of calligraphy (how could I forget that humiliating summer) and how to grind the ink stick. Circular motions, with just the right amount of pressure. I got the circular motions part, but this body didn't know what the right amount of pressure was. After making several wet holes in the paper in the beginning, I barely managed to make a line, though the uneven ink spread on rice paper looked atrocious. Though Kushina assured me it was a great start, I was aghast.

I needed to get my fine motor control back. What more efficient way than by writing?

Maybe I could write an autobiography of my previous life. Perhaps that would allow the incessant headaches to relent somewhat. Perhaps I was feeling some sort of _obligation_ to my past life.

I could write what I remember of the Harry Potter series. Or the Protector of the Small quartet. Perhaps Pride and Prejudice? They would keep me somewhat entertained.

Or I could write down the Naruto timeline…

NO.

Just in reference to where I am…

Maybe.

So I'd be able to know where and who to avoid in order to keep the timeline in order as much as possible.

Okay.

Thus my first goal would be to get my grubby little fingers on a notebook. It would raise awkward questions if I asked Kaa-san for a notebook, and doubly so if I were to ask for money to buy one. And my body didn't have the capabilities of stealing one yet…

So I pondered on how to acquire a notebook as I absently played swords with Shisui with the same toy chokuto.

He noticed my heart wasn't in it and stopped. "Wha's wrong Micchan?"

That's right, Shisui couldn't be bothered to say 'Midori-chan' anymore. So he had shortened my named to 'Micchan'. I didn't see any harm in telling him the truth. "Need a notebook."

Shisui looked curious. "Notebook?"

I nodded.

"Whaddya need it for? Kanji?"

I leaned in close. "I'm makin' a _code_." It wasn't the full truth, as I'd be recycling English, but I'd already fulfilled the truth quota for the day. I was gaining bad habits in this new life, but I guess it couldn't be helped if I hid things that I remembered from my previous life.

Unfortunately for me, Shisui apparently found my 'code-making' project fascinating and started badgering me to let him 'help'.

"It'd be cool! We could use an' devel… develo… _change_ it as we grow up! An' nobody would know!"

He was so excited about the whole deal that I didn't have the heart to refuse him.

So now I would have to teach Shisui the 'code'.

That, or _really_ make a code.

Great.

Well, I'd always wanted to study linguistics, and Tolkien had made many new languages for Middle Earth, so why not?

The thing is, making a whole new language is _tough_. I mean, Tolkien had started creating languages when he was in his early teens. I didn't even know _Japanese_ properly yet. So the question was, would I take the easy route and just rip off Korean and teach it to Shisui as 'code'? Or would I really create a whole new language?

Or would I just come up with a new writing system for the same language?

The ever-present throbbing of my temples grew stronger.

I'd just dug my own grave, in terms of increasing my work. And headaches.

But when Kyouei and Shisui showed up with two notebooks the next day, I couldn't help but think it might be worth it.

…

I was completely unsurprised when I discovered that my handwriting had deteriorated after my rebirth.

Before the whole brain surgery hullabaloo, my handwriting had been passable. (And before high school and computers, it had been on the aesthetically pleasing side, if I do say so myself.) But now…

Now it was back to chicken-scratch.

It was barely legible to _me._ Well, I would be the only one who needed to read it, but still. I'd gone to all the trouble to get a notebook, coerced into the creation of a language, and endlessly merciless headaches just to _increase my fine motor skills._ Such lack of progress was unacceptable.

So between calligraphy lessons with Kushina, indulging Shisui's imagination and enthusiasm, and trying to improve my handwriting, I resorted to sketching. Kunai, shuriken, the mobile hanging above my crib, I drew anything nearby.

I would have to work extra hard to develop my fine motor skills. It didn't matter that I was barely over a year old; my mind was nineteen (the year I spent as a baby didn't count) and I was impatient to get my fine motor skills back.

Maybe I'd take up sewing, even if it was a rather domestic skill. My montessori had made all the kids learn sewing in order to develop fine motor functions. Yes, I'd ask Kaa-san for a sewing kit.

…

Half a year later, when my mom commented that Shisui's birthday party was coming up, it hit me.

Somehow Shisui had become my best friend. Scratch that, my _only_ friend.

After I'd found out that 'Shishi' was Shisui, I had never addressed Shisui by his real name. I purposefully caught his eye before speaking to him.

I hadn't wanted to get close. But it was too late. Yet I still couldn't find it in me to say Shisui's true name to his face. So I just mirrored his 'Micchan' and called him 'Shikkun'.

On the day of Shisui's birthday party, I found myself standing beside my kaa-san outside of Kyouei's house, waiting for the sliding door to open. Shisui's present was in a death grip between my hands.

"There there, Midori-chan. You don't want to ruin the wrapping before Shisui-kun even gets his present, do you?"

My death grip marginally loosened. I wondered if he would like the present. A charm made from a four-leaf-clover I'd found definitely wouldn't be as appealing to a boy as a toy sword. Oh well. I'd combed through a whole field for the little buggers and selected the prettiest looking ones and pressed them and _then_ chosen the best from _those._ I sure as heck wasn't going to take back my present now. I stepped into the house and immediately saw easily over five times the number of guests at my party. Most of them were Uchiha.

My kaa-san and I hovered in a corner, and I felt very much out of place.

"Micchan! You came!" Shisui exclaimed. Then he lowered his voice. "Howzza you-know-what comin' along?"

I shook my head once, not wanting to talk about the code. Shisui pouted, but dropped the subject. He babbled about how great it was to be two years old in front of the older Uchiha children, but then took me aside later to admit it didn't feel much different than being one year old.

Contrary to what I expected, he found the pressed four-leaf-clover charm to be "really cool".

"Hey, whyzzit have four leaves? All the clovers I've seen 'til now've only had three."

I couldn't well explain the fourth leaf was just a result of a mutation of a regular clover – so I just said it was really rare, and would bring luck to whoever was carrying it. Grinning, Shisui had his dad help him thread the charm onto a necklace.

"There! Now I'll be lucky all the time!"

…

Seasons came and passed, and I was almost three. My headaches had faded just a bit, but it may have also just been me becoming desensitized to the pain. My fine motor skills had improved drastically after I'd coaxed my kaa-san into letting me sew. I had somewhat gotten over my dislike of kanji, but I would never like them. Same thing with calligraphy. Shisui and I (mostly I) had come up with a rudimentary code of writing, mostly numbers and an alphabet structure, but had yet to make it into speech.

And most of all – not that I cared – I'd kept track of the Naruto timeline, and it would be within the next year that Obito would be lost to Konoha.

Thing was…I had become attached to Obito.

* * *

A/N: …So…tired…

Kanji: Chinese characters, used in Japanese writing


	3. Making Choices

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

 **Misadventures of an Unwilling Soldier**

* * *

 **Making (questionable) Choices**

* * *

Okay, I admit it. Over the past year and a half, I'd grown attached to Obito, all his quirks, excuses, and tardiness. When he didn't show up to the Uchiha playpen for over two weeks I'd be worried, even though I'd probably refuse to admit it back then.

Everyday, I wear the green goggles he'd given me at my first birthday party like a necklace, as they're still too big to fit around my forehead properly. I remember the first time he'd seen me at the Uchiha playpen after the party, and I swear he's got to be the most emotional ninja who wears the biggest heart on his sleeve, even more than Naruto did…had…would…?

Anyway, it was endearing, and all the kids – including me and my effin bleeding heart – loved Obito for his open, kind nature.

Cursing the day Kaa-san had dropped me into the Uchiha playpen, I morosely flipped through my records of the Naruto timeline in my playpen. It wasn't perfect by any means, but once I started on something, I'd try to make it to the best of my abilities.

So I was now a guilty owner of a timeline that was unnecessarily detailed in some places but a bit sketchy in others. Hey, if it was interesting enough, I remembered it. But some arcs, like the one concerning the zombie clones that simultaneously dragged on for too long, yet were spread out among so many characters for such small portions each – I just flipped through the pages to get a gist, and that 'gist' was _not_ enough to commit to memory. So that whole arc was basically a gap with 'zombie clones unwillingly fighting allied ninja forces' written in it. But that was in the far future.

On the other hand, (un)luckily, the Kakashi Gaiden was one of the more memorable stories. It just wasn't as detailed it could have been, as I could only bear to read it once because A) Kakashi was a jerk, and B) it was sad because Obito had 'died'.

But it was interesting as it elucidated the catalyst that had morphed Kakashi from the stickler for rules to one of my favorite characters in Naruto.

As of now, he was just a kid calling me 'onion brat' every time he saw me, looking down at me with condescending eyes (though perhaps the condescension was due to my overactive imagination; indifference was far more likely). While the adult Kakashi had been one of my favorite characters in Naruto, the current Kakashi – the little genius snot – was _far_ down in the list of my favorite people at the moment, and conversely _very_ high on the list of my least favorite people.

I looked down at where I had jotted down in messy handwriting that the Kannabi bridge mission started on the day Kakashi becomes a jounin.

Perhaps I could…

But then Kakashi's attitude…

It would save Obito and others a whole world of grief…

But then Kakashi wouldn't be able to master the raikiri, and who knew how many missions he used the lightning cutter on…

As a headache consumed me for the first time in a while, I emitted a groan and careened over sideways.

Kaa-san apparently heard my long, wordless, grumpy noise of pain and frustration and she came rushing in and checked my temperature.

"Midori! What's wrong?"

I made to shake my head, but that only served to make me whimper.

"Oh sweetie…" Kaa-san picked me up and put me on her hip, kissing me on the forehead and carding her fingers through my hair.

"When's Tou-chan coming home?" I mumbled. "Where is he?"

"Home, I would hope." A voice said from the doorway.

Kaa-san swung around with me on her hip, so we both saw at the same time who had returned.

"Akai!"

"Tou-chan!"

Tou-san walked in and enveloped both me and Kaa-san into his embrace. Held between my parents and crying in relief, I felt like I was home at last.

Which is strange, because absence doesn't make _my_ heart grow fonder. For me, it's mostly out of sight, out of mind. Or it _was_ in my previous life.

But it seemed that I would always be a daddy's girl, in both my old life and this one, as evidenced by my tears and snot smeared on Tou-san's jounin vest.

Kaa-san pulled out of the hug first to examine Tou-san, allowing me to wiggle out of her arms and leap down with only a little stumble. I _was_ training to be a ninja, after all, and my lessons with Shisui under Kyouei both for swordsmanship and nimbleness were progressing nicely.

He looked a bit bedraggled and tired, but overall whole and healthy. He knelt to be closer to my height, and said, "Wow. Our Midori-hime has grown so big and beautiful. Did you miss me?"

Through her tears, Kaa-san laughed. "Oh Akai, you have no idea. She asked for you every other day."

Giving me a mock hurt look, Tou-san teased, "Not every day?"

"Your calligraphy kit distracted her from that."

Brightening, Tou-san exclaimed, "That's right! Can you show Daddy your practice sheets, Midori-hime? Daddy really wants to see your work." I could see the eagerness on his face. That fact that he was really that happy that I was using the kit that he had painstakingly put together made me feel warm inside. Yes, I had missed Tou-san. My father. My dad.

Yes, I was ready to call Akai my dad even in my head, something that I hadn't manually had to think about for my original dad. But referring to someone as 'Tou-san' in one's third language and referring to someone as 'Dad' in in one's own mind really wasn't the same. With this new revelation, I excitedly showed my dad what I thought were my best pieces, and flushed when I belatedly realized that my mom had kept all my practice attempts and failures. She also showed him my needlework, then proceeded to tell him proudly how it was all my own idea, and that I had 'persevered' for thirty minutes threading my first needle.

All of which I found intensely embarrassing.

But my dad gushed over even the shakiest ink strokes I'd made.

"Kaa-chan! Why did you keep those?" I yelled in dismay.

"I told her to. It's an Uzumaki tradition to keep all calligraphy practice that children do until they turn five years old." My dad answered in her stead. Then he gave me a toothy smile. "Then we bind them in a book for posterity."

I cocked my head to a side. "Why only five years old?" I thought I vaguely might have a guess to the answer, but I was curious about the Uzumaki traditions, as the Naruto universe hadn't really gone into much detail on it. All I remembered about the Uzumaki from the Naruto manga was that most of them had red hair, strong vitality, sensing, and that they were renown for their fuuinjutsu – sealing skills strong enough that countries had allied together to wipe out the clan. Oh, and that some of them had abilities to heal with bites. Unless Karin's abilities were results of Orochimaru's experimentation.

"Well, by the time most Uzumaki turn five, they know enough about calligraphy to start learning fuuinjutsu. And fuuinjutsu isn't something that can be kept and bound into a book, for one. And we Uzumaki are a secretive bunch, for another." Looking over my calligraphy work, he added, "But from what I see, you might start learning fuuinjutsu sooner than others did." Stroking my hair gently, he said, "You're turning out to be quite the genius, Midori-hime."

I blushed, feeling guiltily pleased. Pleased because it was my own father complimenting me, and guilty because I had nineteen years' head start.

Well, perhaps just five sporadic years' worth, with concern to Japanese.

And just a month's worth for calligraphy.

But still, it gave me a ticklish feeling inside my stomach that I hadn't experienced in the longest time.

"Looks like you even know how to go to the bathroom now!"

That comment kind of ruined the mood.

"My little princess has grown up while I was away! She's reading and writing and – "

Oh. I had idealized my dad so much over the past two years that I had forgotten one big characteristic of his.

He was a doting father. Called an oya-baka in Japanese, with a deeper meaning of how the father loves his children so much he somehow turns all their flaws into good traits, and thinks they can do no wrong.

" – drawing and sewing and – "

Yeap, Oya-baka…

" – even making codes!"

…wait WHAT? How did he know about the codes?!

Apparently he read my face expression and grinned. "Maa, hime-sama, you didn't think you could leave such a detailed code lying around and expect me to not notice it, did you?" He dangled the notebook I had left in the playpen in front of me.

How to play this off…

I slumped my shoulders, putting on what I hoped was a disappointed frown on my face.

"I promised I'd keep it a secret with Shikkun! What am I gonna do now?"

I prayed to whoever was listening that he'd only seen the code I was developing with Shisui. If he'd seen the timeline, I would have to lie my way into a maze, one that I wasn't sure my slightly headachy mind could work it's way out of without running into any dead-ends later on.

"See that's the thing, Midori-hime…there are _two_ codes here."

What did the universe have against me? I'd never thought my luck to be particularly bad in my previous life – on the contrary, I'd won two raffles back then, a DVD player in middle school and a fifty-inch smartTV the year before I died… but it looked like I had rotten luck in this life. Maybe if I'm (un)lucky enough, I could challenge Tsunade for her title as the legendary sucker in the future.

Scrambling for a way out of this, I affected a sheepish look.

"W-well," shoot, my voice was shaking, "I made two codes." To buy time, I was reiterating what he had said now, "because I wanted to use the better one with Shikkun." Dah! My writing in English interspersed with the odd Korean was obviously better because they were real _languages,_ but that wasn't the one I was sharing with Shisui, and if my dad decided to approach Shisui with what was mostly English, I was definitely screwed.

But luckily, now my dad was interested in Shisui himself. "You've mentioned this 'Shikkun' twice now. So my princess _has_ made a friend! I thought that wouldn't happen until you entered the Academy."

Had my facial muscles been developed enough, I would have raised an eyebrow. As it was, I felt an eyebrow twitch, and apparently, my dad saw it as well, because he hastily added, "Not that I doubted your ability to make friends for a second! But you're so ahead of children your age that I didn't think there was anybody in any playpen that would be able to appreciate how special you are!"

Deciding to let it go, I switched subjects, "Kyouei-jisan is teaching us kenjutsu."

My dad, being the grown man he was, had no issue with his skill in raising an eyebrow at that. "Kyouei? _Uchiha_ Kyouei?"

I had no idea what the clan relations the Uchiha and Uzumaki had, but I was growing curious.

"You know Kyouei-jisan?" I asked.

"I certainly know of him!" my dad laughed, to my surprise. "He's the most well-known kenjutsu-user ever to exist among the Uchiha, even acknowledged by us Uzumaki, and we were known for our kenjutsu as well." Then he mused, "Hm, if you're friends with his kid, then maybe I can wrangle a spar out of him." Then we heard Kaa-san's voice calling us for dinner, and he hoisted me up onto his waist.

"Well, you can show me everything he's taught you after dinner, Midori-hime. Have you made any other friends while I was gone?"

I found myself telling him how Obito was my friend as well, and quashed the guilt that welled up in me whenever I looked down at the green goggles Obito had given me.

If I knew what would happen and still did nothing about it, when I became tall enough to look into a mirror again, would I be able to not despise what I saw?

I already knew the answer to that.

…

I began to make (reluctant) overtures of friendship with Team Minato whenever we encountered each other, which was more often than I normally would have been comfortable with. Not that I'd decided to change anything. But better to keep things flexible, leave a few options open, right?

Still I grew more and more jittery as time went on, such to the point that people who didn't even know me that well would ask whether I was okay or not.

"Midori-chan, are you alright?" the Uchiha matron – Emi – asked me.

I gave her what I'm fairly sure was an unconvincing smile. "'Course I'm fine Emi-basan. No worries."

Though she gave me a skeptical look, the matron left me alone; I suppose she thought she'd done her job by asking…and really, it was all she could do. As I expected, this gave Shisui an opening to pester me, the perceptive kid he was.

We were playing catch with three small bouncy balls - a sort of unintuitive juggling between two people standing several feet apart, an exercise we'd devised to increase our reflexes and awareness – before he'd caught one, two, then all three rubber balls were in his hands, a signal he wanted to stop the game.

"Something wrong?" I asked him.

"'Parently with you." He replied, stepping closer to me and flopping down to sit on the ground.

I eyed him, wondering if I could get away with running away.

"And dun think about runnin' away. 'Sides, we have kenjutsu later."

Well. Either Shisui could read minds, or that thought had showed on my face. And I'd forgotten about the kenjutsu practice.

Giving it up as a bad job, I sat down as well.

"Wanna tell me what's wrong?" Shisui asked.

Ah, the innocence of children. I vaguely remembered a time when it was enough for me to walk up to another kid and just ask to be their friend, no social niceties needed. Just an innocent question, to which the answer would generally be a yes.

A time when questions answered everything.

"I do."

Shisui waited patiently for all of ten seconds before prompting me to continue. "…so, you wanna tell me what's wrong."

Sighing, I extrapolated, "I do wanna tell you about it, really, but I'm not sure what you can do about it."

Simultaneously true and misleading, my Plan A was to get Shisui to give up on his line of questioning.

"I'll see what I can do after you tell me. 'Sides, it's always better to tell someone. 'S what Dad says!"

I also vaguely remembered the tenacity of children. So Plan B it was.

Biting my lip, I affected hesitation. "Shikkun…you know my dad's back, right?"

Shisui nodded, a rather confused look on his face. "Uhuh. You were all excited 'bout it the other day."

"Well, 'm not sure how to act around him. It's kinda awkward."

That's right, Plan B stood for Plan Bullshit; just spout a load of crap to Shisui until he dropped the subject. Since my dad had gotten back from the frontlines, we'd been getting along like a house on fire; he'd give me pointers on how to create a better code, guide my hand while I wrote kanji bigger than me, tell me funny stories about when he was a kid growing up in Uzushio…

But Shisui didn't know that.

And like the innocent child he was, Shisui swallowed my lie right up.

"Well, d'ya know what your dad likes?"

At that query, I didn't have to pretend to grimace. "Well, he likes to tell stories of Uzushio, but that's a touchy subject, 'cuz it's not around anymore."

Shisui chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully, and a part of me wanted to laugh at the hilarious sight of a three year old kid looking _thoughtful._

"Anything else he likes to do?"

Off the top of my head, I listed, "Uh, he likes calligraphy, and sealing, and erm… oh yeah, he likes kenjutsu…"

Eyes lighting up, Shisui exclaimed, "Kenjutsu! Why dun you ask him to spar?"

Favoring him with a flat look, I asked, "A spar? Really? You think someone _our_ size," I indicated our bodies, "would stand a chance against a grown up?"

Shisui shrugged, looking rather sheepish.

"But he did look excited when I mentioned your dad's name…" I mused. "Hey, do you think my dad can spar with your dad?" I asked, already guessing Shisui would agree on his dad's behalf whether Kyouei wanted it or not. Hey, it may have been a tad manipulative, but as I had used my oya-baka Dad as an excuse, it was the least I could do to get him that spar he wanted. Never let it be said that I'm an unfilial daughter.

Par to my prediction, Shisui jumped up to his feet and agreed. "Yeah! Hey, you could invite him over sometime! Our dads can be friends, and we can all spend more time together!"

An irrepressible smile bloomed on my face. Honestly, though I didn't like manipulating people (I didn't even think I had the stomach to outright lie to a person's face in my previous life), I liked it when my actions made people happy.

"Yeah, sounds good!" I agreed, and Shisui bounced a ball to toward me to start the game once more.

…

Needless to say, when my dad found out that _the_ Uchiha Kyouei wanted (or I suspected had rather been railroaded by his only son) to meet and spar with him, he was over the moon. He swung me around and I squealed from the fun, the freedom, the abilities, the _privileges,_ of being a small child again.

Until I saw my notebook again.

The green notebook (Shisui had grinned, saying it matched me as he had handed it over) was a grim reminder of the choice of whether I should act or not. Interfere or not. But even as every fiber of my being screamed that I should, that it was only fair that I give Obito a fighting chance, after all he'd done for me – my mind was the cold, rational part of me that argued, 'but what about Naruto's future?'

What _about_ it!?

Sure, it turned out happily ever after, sans Neji and Itachi and Obito –

Ok, fine! But I'm living for _me_ , dammit! Not a whole slew of fictional characters whose futures were not assured even _without_ my conscious action. My whole _presence_ changed things, since I was another Uzumaki.

And why should I feel responsible for people who hadn't even been born yet? _Was_ I responsible for them? Because I knew the timeline? Or rather, The Plotline?

I was saved from my thoughts when my dad picked me up and went over to Shisui's house, the place where I learnt kenjutsu.

It was the first time that my dad had accompanied me to Shisui's home, and on the way there passing many other Uchiha houses, he had a nostalgic look on his face, which I found odd. When I asked him, he answered, "It's been a while since I've been in a compound that retained the traditions back from the clan days."

That piqued my curiosity. "Did Uzumaki houses look like this?"

My dad laughed. "No, nothing as fancy or orderly as these. We Uzumaki tend to have more chaotic personalities, which in turn, affected our surroundings. Most things we built ended up looking like spirals, or some other whirlpool-like structure. I have no idea how our homes were structurally sound long enough to have stabilization seals put on them. They looked like they would fold like a house of cards…" He looked wistful, "It may sound odd, but it was still a part of our traditions."

I would've liked to see that, as I had been interested in structural engineering even in my previous life.

The rest of the way to Shisui's place was spent in silence.

…

Shisui and I watched in awe as an epic kenjutsu battle (actually a spar, but battle sounds cooler) unfolded before our eyes. Even though my eyes could barely follow both party's movements as their swords clashed.

The styles were, in actuality, quite different. The style that Kyouei used, and was teaching the foundations to Shisui and me, was 'sharp and efficient' _._ It included a series of swipes, that, if I understood understood correctly, purposefully left openings to lure the opponent into attacking before blocking with the saya - the scabbard - leaving the opponent vulnerable to stab.

In contrast, my dad's sword style all but screamed 'whirlpool!' in neon letters, what with his twirling and rapid movements. Yet the few times he stopped moving, his stances seemed to maintain their ability to flow right back into movement, reminiscent of water. The pure fluidity of movement had me half-convinced that it was a dance altered to include a sword.

And yet even though I was able to make observations about the kenjutsu styles, I wasn't skilled enough to see the openings or weaknesses of either swordsmen. My mouth twisted in annoyance at the thought.

"You seein' what I'm seein', Micchan?"

"What are you seein'?" I whispered back, unable to tear my eyes off the kenjutsu users. "'Cuz they're movin' too fast for me to see much."

"Exactly." Shisui replied. "Think we'll move that fast when we're grown up?"

Eyes still fixed upon the spar, I shrugged, "Depends on how hard we practice…"

"And… _stop_."

As one, Shisui, I, and our dads' turned to look behind us, from whence the firm command had been voiced. It was feminine, most likely an Uchiha, from her raven black hair and eyes. Though it was a bit hard to tell from my perspective – looking up at adults was tiring – it seemed she was in her late teens…? So not quite an adult? Ugh, I should just go back to saying grown up. Heck knows, _I_ was impatient to become a 'grown up' long enough in my previous life.

Straightening from his crouch, my dad Kyouei sheepishly put a hand to the back of his head.

"Oops, were we making too much noise?"

Sheathing his sword, Kyouei gave a nonchalant shrug. "Naw." He turned to the newcomer. "Hey Mikoto. Have you met Akai-san?"

Inwardly, I sighed. Meeting a major connection to not one, but _two_ of the main characters? I should have known… This 'tiptoe through the plot of Naruto' plan of mine was getting more and more skewed by the day.

Mikoto nodded politely to my dad. "Akai-san."

"Mikoto-san." My dad said cheerfully. "If I may be so bold, may I ask you to forgive Kushina? She's stubborn so she might not say it, but she misses you."

Ah, my dad _would_ know Mikoto, if only through Kushina.

Stiffening, Mikoto said coolly, "If I may remind you, the Uzumaki have no reason to butt into the affairs of the Uchiha clan."

My eyes widened, and I exchanged glances with Shisui. Whatever was going on, it was definitely clan-related.

At this point, Kyouei spoke up. "To be fair, I don't think you should agree to the marriage either. Fugaku might be a good man, but the most suitable wife for a man of his temperament would be an obedient, timid housewife." His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "You, my dear cousin, are neither."

Comprehension dawned upon me. Kushina must have objected to the marriage because she thought in typical straightforward Uzumaki fashion that Mikoto would be trapped in an unhappy marriage. And Mikoto must have lashed out at Kushina for it, leading to estrangement from Kushina.

And seeing the look Mikoto threw Kyouei, she apparently didn't appreciate his two cents either.

"You _know_ I have very little choice in the matter." She hissed. "Fugaku is devoted to the clan, powerful, and most of all, _I know him._ I don't know the other candidates."

Kyouei heaved a faux sigh. He was acting unlike himself, and I could tell Shisui thought so too. "Ah, the burdens of being the heiress of a patriarchal clan."

At this, Mikoto looked ready spit needles, and my dad hastily backed up to shield me and Shisui (well, not so much Shisui; I had a feeling that he was displeased with my only friend and only heavens knew why).

"You! You _dare_ have the nerve to say that! If only uncle Kagami hadn't refused to be clan leader, then I wouldn't be in this position! Technically, clan leader should be _your_ position! Not my future husband's!"

Looking utterly bored and even more out of character, Kyouei drawled, "Nope, not interested."

Then all the wind seemed to blow out of her sails, and Mikoto sighed, "And that attitude's precisely why the Elders refused my plea. Can't you show just a little more interest in clan affairs?"

I could tell my dad was interested despite himself, but as a bystander in this conversation concerning politics of a clan that was not his own, he had also been long out of his comfort zone.

"Look, I care about the clan. But I put Konoha first. As did my old man. I can't change that, and if you think that pretending to change my attitude will – " Kyouei noticed my dad pick me up. "Oh, leaving already Akai-san?"

My dad dithered awkwardly, "I, ah, don't think I should intrude on any more, uh, _family time._ "

Somebody snorted. I couldn't tell who.

"Let's finish this spar another time, Akai-san." Kyouei smiled. "And practice your stances, Midori-chan!"

I waved goodbye to him and Shisui, who looked utterly confused at what had just taken place. Genius he may be, he was three, and he didn't understand marriage, much less clan politics.

As my dad took me home, he muttered to himself, "Tch, clan politics."

I asked, "Did the Uzumaki have those too?"

My dad shivered. "No. Uzumaki and politics did not – do not – mix. No need for clan elders either, since Uzumaki _was_ essentially Uzushio. And admittedly, we had a rather roughshod village system. Uzushio _was_ rather difficult to find, so we sold our skills as sealmasters on the road. The only clan politics we practiced was keeping track of the family tree, and who had what abilities…"

He gave me an assessing look. "Hm, maybe we should test you for an ability. Let's see if I can replicate the fuuinjutsu technique…"

Well, I wouldn't say no to that.

…

My heart felt like in had been dunked in water of arctic temperatures when Obito stopped by the playpen to bid a cheery farewell to the Uchiha kids plus me.

For a mission.

"Where's the mission?"

"Will it be long?"

"Is it cool?"

"Is it dangerous?"

Part of the reason he was always late to team meetings was because he always dropped by the Uchiha playpen. The other part was because he was so damn _kind_. Such a do-gooder. In my previous life, I'd only lived in New York City for two years, but even that much was enough to teach me to mind my own business and pretend not to see the homeless on the sidewalks, people struggling with their groceries… Then again, Konoha was a _village_ , while New York City was…well, a _city_.

I'd liked to have seen Obito live in New York, and see if he would be inoculated to the sight of every needy person he passed.

Presently, I managed to fight through the mass of Uchiha kids crowding around Obito and tug on the hem of his pants. He looked down at me and grinned. "Yo, Midori-hime." He knelt down to my eye level, ruffling my hair.

"…Are you going on a mission, Obito-nii?"

"Hm? Yeah! My awesome presence is finally going out to make a difference!" He boasted.

For a moment, I hesitated.

"What's wrong, Midori?" Oh shoot, Obito had left out the pet suffix 'princess'. Which meant he was being serious.

Looking into his dark eyes, I stuttered, "If…if your mission requires you to…" I broke eye contact and trailed off, afraid to cross the line. 'C'mon,' I rallied myself, 'just say it!' "…to destroy a- a bridge…" I squeezed my eyes shut. "Be careful! Don't go off on your own! Make sure to come back!"

I hugged his arm for a second before fleeing, shoving my way through the Uchiha children. I caught a glimpse of Shisui staring at me as I ran straight towards the corner we usually occupied.

After Obito left, Shisui approached me and asked, "What was _that_ about, Micchan?"

I _must_ have been out of my mind because I then confided in a _three year old_ , "I dunno what to do anymore, Shikkun."

It was only one sentence, and I regretted it as soon as it left my lips, but I couldn't take it back.

Hell to a handbasket.

…

A/N: I wanted Midori to be pampered a little longer, for those of you who didn't expect Akai to return.


	4. All Fun and Games

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

 **Misadventures of an Unwilling Soldier**

* * *

 **All (not) Fun and Games**

* * *

The next few days were spent on edge to the extent that my dad noticed and forced me to keep myself occupied with other things. One of which was buckling down and plowing through the basics of sealing.

To say that I was disappointed in my expectations about sealing…well, wouldn't be quite true, but the basics of sealing certainly were underwhelming, or, frustrating at the very least.

Case in point, my current exercise: looking at flashcards (originally made when my dad had tried to teach Kaa-san sealing basics) with squiggles that had no meaning to me and trying to guess what they meant.

The closest I can compare this to is having someone with no exposure to Middle Eastern languages trying to decipher Arabic. Apparently when it got to the more complex levels, sealing would incorporate rules a bit like those of computer coding, which I only knew the bare bones of. You needed good habits, in any case. So right then I was building my so called good habits.

A picture resembling a sun could mean anything from gravity to the actual sun. In a similar fashion, wavy lines could mean anything from hair to waves. I had to think outside the box and it hurt my brain, even though I seemed to be getting the hang of it. Somewhat.

While I was slaving away and honing my supposed Uzumaki instincts (which my dad insisted every Uzumaki had, though I wasn't sure I counted, considering my… unique situation) my dad himself was working on recreating the Uzumaki Bloodline Ability Revealer Seal.

I knew he was working hard on my behalf as well; nevertheless, my assignment still proved much more prevalent and frustrating to me, as I was stuck staring at the same card for over half an hour.

I glared at the symbol before me, as if it would tell me what it meant if I stared at it hard enough. Best I can describe it was three wavy lines intersecting and making a demented but roughly equilateral triangle encasing a dot at its center. Not a perfect dot though, I noticed as I peered so closely that my eyes crossed: it had the smallest tail, looking a bit like a comma. In fact, it looked almost like a _tomoe._ Like a _sharingan_ tomoe.

"Any progress?" My dad asked me, as he was himself was stuck three-quarters of the way to finishing the seal, specifically on the cipher layer describing the biological attributes of the precise Uzumaki being tested. The main problem seemed to be that I was technically only half-Uzumaki, and my dad had only seen the seal used on full-blooded Uzumaki.

Scrunching my face, I answered, "A…sharingan inside a…cage?" Okay, it came out more as a question, but this 'thinking outside the box like an Uzumaki' was _hard._ Especially since my mind technically was quite a bit over three years old. I had the feeling the naivete of a child would have come in handy right about now.

At this, my dad looked up sharply. "…Close. Very close." He whispered. "But no, even Uzumaki haven't found a way to limit *doujutsu without actually taking their eyes."

 _[doujutsu: bloodline limit using eyes, but literally, eye technique]_

I assumed that the last sentence was mostly spoken to himself, as my dad would usually never mention gory things like ripping out eyeballs in front of me. Briefly, a vision of an older Shisui flashed before my eyes, both eye sockets hollow while entrusting the Uchiha clan's and Konoha's future to Itachi.

Shaking my head and pushing morbid and maybe-won't-happen thoughts out of my mind, I focused back on the symbol encasing the single tomoe. This time I noticed that there was a tomoe at every intersection. So perhaps it wasn't trapping it…

"A sharingan…being explored?" I tried again, saying the words like I wasn't sure how they would taste on my tongue.

I wasn't disappointed, as my dad beamed and picked me up, swinging me around and eliciting involuntary squeals from me. "What did I do to deserve such a smart daughter like you?" In my previous life, wanting such tactile shows of affection from my parents after entering middle school was considered unseemly and immature. Or maybe I had just become embarrassed of being treated like a baby and distanced myself from them.

Either way, I had forgotten what it had felt like to be held by my parents until I'd been reborn. I felt a bit melancholy thinking of my previous parents and my relationship with them.

My dad's voce broke me from my thoughts. "So, Hime-sama, care to tell me the reasoning for your conclusion on this symbol?" before frowning to himself, and muttering, "Though it shouldn't even have been in there in the first place. I should look over the cards again…"

I could feel my chin wrinkle as I struggled to explain.

"Well…" I poked the tomoe, "that dot in the center. It reminded me of a tomoe in a sharingan." Spotting the beginnings of a big misunderstanding via my dad's darkening face, I hastily nipped it in the bud, "'Cause Shikkun drew it for me one time." Turning back to the symbol, I continued, "At first I thought these lines were caging the tomoe in. But then you said I was wrong so I thought harder and then saw more tomoes where the lines were crossing! So I thought the lines were… extending from them instead." I shrugged to finish off my halting explanation. "So maybe exploring might be what it means."

Propping me onto his hip, Dad pensively traced the wavy lines with a finger. "Yes, _explore_ is one way to put it. While records of the sharingan are jealously guarded, some time ago, the Uchiha employed an Uzumaki because apparently each sharingan is slightly different, and they wanted to either improve where they were lacking, or specialize." Pressing his index finger onto the tomoe at the center, he continued, "We came up with two reasons why not all sharingan are created equal. One is simply the strength of the bloodline, which simply cannot be helped. The other is the body chemistry of chakra, which can be trained to a certain extent. For example, some people are better suited to illusions, while others lean toward physical jutsu. And even then, there are proclivities to taijutsu, ninjutsu, etc. It all depends on the user's intellect and more importantly, the balance of yin and yang chakra in their body…" he trailed off mid-sentence, looking a bit embarrassed at waxing poetic about a bloodline theory to me, his not-quite-three-year-old daughter.

My eyes were probably glossed over and void of understanding, as I had caught less than 50% of the precise vocabulary that came from his mouth, not to mention the speed with which he was talking. Obviously, I still needed to work on my Japanese. Clearing his throat, he scratched the back of his head and simplified, "Well, this is one of the symbols used in sealing to help discover – or like you said, _explore –_ which areas of sharingan the user is more inclined to."

Understanding dawned as I got the gist of what my dad was saying. The question occurred to me whether the Mangekyou would heavily emphasize the user's predispositions or know to balance the user's abilities out. I would never know, as the Mangekyou was an Uchiha Clan secret, and very few people ever attained Mangekyou in the first place. At least, that was supposed to be the case.

"My hime-sama's really getting into the Uzumaki mindset! Daddy is so proud!" My dad ruffled my hair, which was in the awkward stage of being too long to comfortably let loose yet still too short to tie. But it was long enough for me to see that it was green as grass.

Ruefully patting my hair back into a semblance of order, I swore to myself that I would learn the henge before I entered the Academy if it was the last thing I did. Maybe I would change my hair color back to black, like it had been in my previous life. Or maybe red's like my dad's.

…

On the second to the last step of completing the Uzumaki Bloodline Ability Revealer Seal, my dad realized that he needed to know the coefficient of my healing rate. That required testing over time, and since he was horrified at the idea of cutting me several times to find out, he was stuck. Frustrated, he put the project on hold, deciding to put my sealing education first.

So he was holding out two pieces of paper to me. "Can you tell the difference?"

They looked the same. "Is there a difference?" I was confused. It could be a legitimate question, but it could just as likely be a trick question

Dad merely offered me the paper tags. Picking up one in each hand, I studied them closely. Frowning, I overlapped them and held them together, but they looked completely identical.

"Try focusing less on what it looks like, and more on feeling." He suggested.

Closing my eyes to convince myself I was focusing more, I poured my concentration into my hands.

It could have been simply an illusion, but I had the impression that the paper in my right hand was emanating a slight warmth. Opening my eyes, I frowned at the supposedly blank paper in my right hand.

Seeing a grin spread over my dad's face, I asked, "What is it?"

"Just a hand-warming tag."

I wrinkled my nose. A heat this weak could warm hands? "For when, summer?" I couldn't help but ask sarcastically.

At this, my dad laughed outright. "It's not activated yet. Does it feel like anything to you?"

"A bit warm." I answered truthfully.

"Ahah!" My dad suddenly exclaimed, taking the true blank tag from my fingers and hurriedly drawing a symbol on the blank tag. He tapped it once, and the ink he drew disappeared. He handed it back, peering at me excitedly. "How does this one feel?"

What was I supposed to say? It felt like plain rice paper to me. I rubbed the paper between my fingers, before a word popped up into mind. "Sticky?"

"That's right!" Wait, that bull I spouted was right? "It's a tag that sticks you to the ground!" Looking delighted, he took out another tag from his pouch. This one wasn't blank, but I was nowhere near progressed enough in my sealing studies to identify it.

I was at a loss for what to say. It gave off a somewhat sterile feeling, so I took another stab in the dark. "Clean?" I half asked.

"Yes indeed! It's a sterilization seal. What about this one?" This time, he pulled out a tag from the front pocket of his flak jacket. "Careful with this one," he warned as he handed it to me.

Holding it carefully, I looked at it doubtfully. "…Tickly. No, itchy."

Dad took the seal back, looking thoughtful. "You're not wrong. It's a smoke bomb." He ruffled my hair. "Looks like you have an knack for sensing seals. We'll have to train you to recognize them by feeling."

Whoopee.

…

I should have known that Shisui would keep a closer eye on me than usual after I had unloaded my problems to him via word vomit on the day Obito had left for his mission. About halfway through our stretches, he stated, "You're distracted."

I honestly don't quite remember what I said to Shisui, besides confessing that I didn't know what to do about Obito. I'm not even sure whether I'd mentioned the fact that I had a fair grasp of the possible future… but I was sure I'd maintained the presence of mind to refrain from spewing out that I'd be irrelevant and he'd be dead, living on only in the form of his eyes, one of which would be implanted in Danzo and the other in a crow.

What I _did_ know for sure was that it had definitely been garbled beyond comprehension.

Deciding silence would be best for now, I didn't answer. After all, he hadn't actually _asked_ me anything. Just said I was distracted.

Then he asked as a continuation, "Why?"

Gah. Guess even geniuses aren't exempt from saying the favorite word of all three year olds.

I gave the simplest and most neutral answer, "'M having trouble focusing." It also happened to be mostly true.

Shisui's round face was inscrutable. "Why?" That 'w' word again. I hoped fervently that this stage of childhood wouldn't last long for Shisui.

Seeing how I was taking too long to answer, Shisui prompted, "Is it 'cause of 'Bito-nii?"

I'd practiced raising an eyebrow for ages, but it still didn't work, so I settled with raising both as I stared at Shisui. "Aren't you gonna call him 'Bitossan'?"

Scoffing, Shisui replied, "I only do that to annoy him, thought you knew that."

I'd figured, but it was still surprising to hear Shisui refer to Obito like all the other kids normally did.

Shisui gave me the stink eye. "And dun think I'll be distracted so easily. You still didn't answer."

Unable to repress a sigh, I affirmed, "Yes. It's 'cause of Obito-nii." But I offered nothing else.

"Wh – "

"Finished stretching?" Kyouei's voice, thankfully interrupted the 'why' that had been halfway out of Shisui's mouth. Because honestly, now that I was in my right frame of mind, I just didn't know what to tell Shisui. Say I told him the unadulterated truth and he believed me – as he was three years old and still impressionable – what could we possibly do from there? For all intents and purposes, I was two (nearly three) and genius he may be, Shisui was still only three, without a sharingan, much less his mangekyou.

"Let's review the forms, and we start on the basics of iaido today."

At the word 'iaido', I perked up, temporarily lifted from all my troubling thoughts. Iaido was the broader term for iaijutsu, which was also a broader term for battoujutsu, which I was practically dying to learn.

Now, I had basically grown up on martial arts manga and movies, and Rurouni Kenshin had been a big part of my previous childhood. Long story short, I wanted to see if I could rip off the fighting style of a fictional character named Himura Kenshin.

With a grin I felt nearly splitting my face, I jumped with joy.

"Yeah! Battoujutsu! Finally!"

Leveling me with a stern look, Kyouei admonished, "There is more to iaido than battoujutsu."

"Yeah!" I agreed readily. "But even battoujustu can be used in so many ways!"

I saw Kyouei's lips twitch in amusement behind his teacher's façade.

Shisui grumbled, "I dun see what's so exciting about learning to draw and sheathe a sword…"

I turned up my nose at Shisui's ignorant comment. "It's an art, you heathen. You'll see someday when I use it to save your life on the battlefield."

While Shisui was still puzzling out what 'heathen' meant, Kyouei, on the other hand, lost all composure as he dissolved into poorly disguised laughter.

"…Yes…Midori…" He managed between chuckles. "…Is right…" He snorted one last time before straightening with some difficulty. "Iaido is a discipline that requires respect. If you choose to use kenjutsu on the field, iaido plays a big part in this style. Watch." Sheathed sword in hand, Kyouei turned to the row of straw bundles. In a smooth motion, he unsheathed the sword and slashed it across the first bundle, and re-sheathed the sword. The top half of the bundle fell at his feet.

Shisui and I looked on with slack jaws.

Favoring us with an amused look, Kyouei said, "Don't look too impressed. That was the slow version." Then, before I could even blink, the second bundle was rolling around in halves on the ground. Kyouei didn't look like he'd even moved.

Shisui's eyes were the size of dinner plates, his jaw almost unhinged, and I had little doubt that I wore a similar expression.

If the thought that unsheathing and sheathing a sword would ever be simple crossed my mind, it definitely didn't last long.

At least, not after I nearly cut my hand in half while attempting to unsheathe my sword for the fourth time.

From prior experience with kitchen knives and other injuries in my prior life, I knew that if I wanted the flesh to heal quickly, or at least mitigate the wound and stem the blood flow, the sliced flesh should be pinched together. If I didn't, I'd be in a whole new universe of pain in a few minutes. Unless Uzumaki somehow had monstrous pain tolerance. Which wouldn't surprise me, really. I guess this was a safe environment to find out whether the lion's share of Naruto's resilience came from his Uzumaki heritage or the Kyuubi. Though, in canon, he didn't really seem all that resilient. It was mostly fanfiction that buffed him up. Come to think on it, the only time I could remember Naruto's fast regeneration kicking in was when when he had lost control of the Kyuubi…

With almost morbid fascination, I watched as my flesh slowly opened up a line of blood, and then proceeded to bleed almost alarmingly quickly.

"Midori!"

I looked up at Kyouei's voice. "Kyouei-jisan." My voice sounded rather detached even to my own ears. "'M bleeding."

Kyouei first blinked, then became uncharacteristically panicked. "Uh, uhh… Right! That's enough for today!"

"But we barely started." I deadpanned, absently pinching my flesh together the best I could with my right hand.

"And you've sliced your hand open!" Shisui's father said rather hysterically. "Iaido with live blades!? What was I thinking!? No, I _wasn't_ thinking at all! Akai-san is going to gut me!" He rushed out of the room, hopefully to get a bandaid. Or bandages, seeing how deep the cut was.

"Aah!? Micchan's bleeding?" Shisui demanded. "See, I _knew_ iaido was no good!" He huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at blades now nestled safely in their sheaths, unable to hurt anybody, unless you counted blunt force trauma if you clubbed someone with them.

"'S my hand that got cut, not yours." I pointed out, the intended acerbity in my tone slightly overtaken by the faintness I was feeling.

"That makes it worse!" Shisui insisted.

"Well…" I chanced looking down at my wound and immediately regretted it. "It doesn't hurt too much…yet." I held back a wince, foreseeing the future of my wound, the _burning_ sensation when alcohol would meet open flesh…

Kyouei came rushing back, hovering over me and fulfilling my prediction as he fairly dunked my hand into antiseptic. He then proceeded to nearly mummify my whole forearm afterward. Looking ruefully down at what looked like a vastly overdone bandage but slightly underdone cast, I consoled myself with the fact that it wasn't, at least, my dominant arm. Perhaps my mom would take me to the hospital. Or she'd be able to heal it herself, as she was pretty handy with iryojutsu*.

 _[*iryojutsu: medical skills]_

As we trudged back to my home (Kyouei fretting every step of the way) Shisui whispered grumpily to me, "I druther learn your dad's kenjutsu style. It looks cooler."

"Thought you wanted to be like your dad?" As for me, despite the setback I had suffered that day, I still had my heart set on learning iaido. Perhaps even more so, as I was pig-headed about things that proved difficult to learn.

Shisui shrugged, muttering something about not having to be an exact copy of his dad. "What really matters is the heart." He said, crossing his arms and nodding sagely.

He did have a point, though I suspected that Shisui was just repeating something he had heard his father say.

Turns out, my dad was very calm as he unwound the bandages and examined my hand, absently pulling out a pen and notepad somewhere from his flak jacket. "Did you note the time of her injury?" He asked Kyouei.

Bewildered, Kyouei replied, "About twenty-five minutes ago…why?"

Jotting that down and sitting back, my dad proclaimed, "It's not that bad. From the looks of it, it seems like it's healed quite a bit." He informed Kyouei, who looked very close to having a nervous breakdown. "Us Uzumaki are quite hardy." My dad said cheerfully. "I wasn't sure whether Midori had inherited that part of the Uzumaki traits, but now I see I had nothing to worry about. I've also gotten some sample data I needed, so I think it worked out well in the end."

Inspecting my hand, I did notice that the cut had already started drying and scabbing beneath the bandages, nevermind the fact the wound hadn't been exposed to air. Well whaddya know.

Wanting Kyouei and Shisui to feel better as well, I waved my hand around vigorously. "Look, look, the cut's a lot smaller! It doesn't hurt much anymore!"

Kyouei looked curiously down at my hand. "I see. So is this the famed Uzumaki resilience and longevity?"

Tossing the used bandages in the laundry to be washed, my dad straightened. "Well, it's not technically _longevity,_ per se. From what I know, people have a set cell regeneration count, and it's just that we Uzumaki's numbers are generally higher, and speedier when it detects a wound. If our bodies detect a wound, the fast production kicks in. Longevity is just a side effect of not getting wounded much, I guess. There are probably some other complexities to it, but I'm not a healer, so I'm not sure." My dad said sheepishly. "I'll ask Tsunade-nee-san if I see her."

Unwittingly, I squawked, " _Nee_ -san?" Dad was close enough to Tsunade to call her _nee-san_?

My dad ruffled my hair, which I swear he _knew_ I hated by now, as evidenced by his cheeky grin.

"Well, not my real sister, but she's a distant cousin. Her grandmother, the late Mito-sama, was an Uzumaki too. I'll introduce her to you if I ever get a chance."

That was the _last_ thing I wanted. Sure, Tsunade was awesome, but she was one of the principal characters. All the same, I couldn't say that to my dad's face, so I just laughed nervously. "Aheh. Can't wait." The one thing that comforted me was that there was a good chance she'd already left Konoha "for good" to wander around. I couldn't remember the exact dates.

…

Days, then weeks, passed at a snail's pace, with me slugging through flash cards and unactivated tags, practicing more complex calligraphy, and repeatedly sheathing and unsheathing the wooden sword.

I was playing the bounce-juggling game with Shisui once more, but instead of three tennis-sized rubber balls, we'd graduated to six marble-sized rubber balls, requiring an immense amount of concentration from my almost-three-year-old self.

Until there was a sudden outcry.

"Obito's what?!"

My heart froze and I missed the next few balls, and they bounced away from me. Mine wasn't the only head that turned to the Uchiha matron.

Shisui too, abandoned our game as he rushed over to Emi-obasan.

"What's wrong? What happened to 'Bito-nii?!"

There was a clamor as the children bombarded the matron with questions all at once.

Hastily shooing the Uchiha teen who had presumably told her the news out the door, Emi-obasan looked tearfully at us and said with an obviously watery voice forcing calm, "Don't worry, children. He's just asleep for a bit. He'll wake up soon."

It was clear that the matron was sugar coating for the kids' sake, though I couldn't tell to what extent. From her vague statements, I couldn't even tell whether Obito was dead or alive.

"When can we go visit him, then?" I finally mustered up my courage and asked. It would be best to act like I assumed he was alive. After all, little children should believe what adults said.

Swallowing thickly, Emi-obasan replied, "I'm not sure that would be a good idea." Stonewalled by another vague comment.

"No!" This time, another kid protested loudly. "We wanna go see 'Bito-nii!" The clamor started up once more, until Emi-obasan sternly ordered us to settle down and go back to playing our games.

Even though we'd lost half the marble-sized balls we'd started with, Shisui and I sat against a wall, in no mood to go crawling around in search for them. I still didn't even know if Obito was really alive.

"Hey, Micchan."

"Nn?" I grunted back, too depressed to speak properly.

"How did you know this would happen?"

I stiffened my face muscles barely in time to keep my face from collapsing. "Just had a bad feelin'." Maybe he would buy it. Depending on the things I told him when I'd had my breakdown. Shisui nodded in acceptance.

Apparently I had overthought things; he was, after all, a three-year-old kid and not yet a ninja trained to analyze and draw conjectures from every single word uttered in his presence.

Drawing my knees under my chin, I mumbled, "I wanna see Obito-nii. I wanna know if he's really back."

"Me too." Agreed Shisui. After a somber silence, he perked up. "Hey! I got an idea!"

…

"Is this really gonna work?" I asked Shisui in a whisper. It was a rhetorical question, as I was 90% sure it would not.

"Shh!" He hushed me.

We had gone from kid to kid inside the Uchiha playpen to ask for their cooperation, in exchange for Shisui's snacks and a promise of his dad's (apparently very famous) cookies in the future. In other words, we'd bribed them to raise a ruckus to distract Emi-obasan, so Shisui and I had a chance to escape from the playpen.

Looking at the tall (from my nearly three year old vantage point, at least) fence, I felt an ocean of doubt. Sure, it probably wouldn't be too difficult to go over the fence itself. The problem was Emi-obasan's observation skills and that beyond the fence, there were other Uchiha who would definitely notice the presence of two toddlers.

"I'll go over first, so I can pull you up." Shisui muttered to me, using a hand to shield his lips from being read, I supposed. "Wait until she's distracted. Keep your position here."

Very purposefully, a jenga tower toppled over, triggering harsh criticism from several players and a child's loud (crocodile) tears, in turn resulting in loud protests and complaints from surrounding children, in turn provoking a fight, setting off babies' screaming and bawling. When a harried Emi-obasan hurried over to break up the fight, Shisui used my back to spring over the fence.

I grit my teeth and tried not to lock my still fragile limbs as his full weight was on my back for one brief moment. He was _heavy_. Barely taking time to recover from being _stepped on,_ I staggered to my feet and jumped to reach the top of the fence. I managed to grab the top, but for one heart-stopping moment, the fence wobbled in protest to the sudden extra pressure of my weight, combined with the velocity at which I'd jumped.

The moment passed and Shisui grabbed my other hand to help me go clamber over the fence.

Afterward, we snuck out of the house and crept under a bush (which was very uncomfortable).

"Step one, success!" Shisui seemed excited.

I, on the other hand, didn't know whether I should be glad we were lucky, or disappointed and a bit scared of how easy it was to distract the matron who was in charge of taking care of children, all of whom (excepting me) had the potential to awaken very valuable eyes.

Deciding that worrying about one thing at a time was more than enough, I turned my thoughts to the next, near impossible step: getting out of the Uchiha district safely.

"You know the way out of the Uchiha district, right?" Shisui asked me, as he probably didn't. As a child and a Uchiha, Shisui didn't have much reason to go out of the district unless it was to visit me, and he didn't do that much, as _I_ was the one frequenting the Uchiha playpen _._

If it were me from my previous life, the chances of successfully remembering the route would have been a 50/50. Before, my sense of direction had not been the best. Unless the sun was obviously in a certain location at a time that was obviously not noon, I could never tell one cardinal direction from another. However, my observation skills weren't that bad, and the way I remembered directions was to landmark things. Of course, I would've had to have traveled there (while paying attention) at least once.

As my current world did not have cars, I was either carried, or more recently, led by the hand by my kaa-san.

Which was why I could nod to Shisui's question.

So I crept out from under the bushes to lead the way out of the Uchiha district, though I had no idea how we would find the hospital once we got out.

Though there were surprisingly few people – I had never witnessed the Uchiha district's streets during work hours – Shisui and I still hid as often as possible, ducking behind various items large enough to hide a toddler or two. Admittedly, there weren't many things big enough to completely cover two toddlers, and at one point, Shisui got so separated from me that I couldn't see him anymore.

"Shikkun? Shikkun!" Where had he gone? Where was he? Glancing around at all the neatly manicured bushes – cursing the Uchiha and their damn penchant for shrubbery, heaven knows why, weren't most of their elemental affinities fire? – I felt my headache shoot up along with mounting panic as I wondered how I could possibly look for him without getting captured and taken back to .

A lady glanced in my direction, and I clammed up. She approached me, and a part of me registered that she looked familiar, but the other part of me dismissed that all Uchiha looked somewhat similar; besides, I was too busy trying not to freak out.

"Are you lost?" She asked me, her voice a combination of kindness and impatience. Definitely not a mother, this one.

"I…" If I said no, she wouldn't believe me… But if I said yes, she would drop me off at the nearest playpen –

A ridiculously simple idea struck me. What if I just told her the truth?

Looking up at her through my bangs, I answered, "'M looking for Shikkun."

Brow wrinkling, she repeated, "Shikkun?"

Oh, she wouldn't know Shisui by my nickname for him. "Shisui. Uchiha Shisui." I clarified.

Her expression cleared, and her confusion for my presence seemed to disappear. "Ah. Are you Akai-san's daughter? Your hair…I should have recognized you."

It took a bit of effort to ignore her aborted comment about my hair; once again, I wished that my green hair didn't stick out like a sore thumb.

"I'm Mikoto, friends with your aunt, Kushina. We must have seen each other at Shisui-kun's house."

Oh. I inwardly drooped. She was Mikoto. In this big district, that I would bump into a character high on my list to avoid? I had no choice with Kushina, but Uchiha Mikoto… What were the odds?!

"'M Uzumaki Midori." I introduced myself, on the miniscule chance Kushina hadn't already told her.

"Nice to meet you again, Midori-chan. Now, let's look for Shisui-kun." Even as I nodded vigorously, she was already glancing around. "Hold my hand so you don't get lost, Midori-chan." I struggled to keep up with her strides. After a few steps, she relaxed in what I assumed was relief. "You can come out, Shisui-kun."

I assumed she'd found him, but Shisui didn't answer or come out. What was he waiting for?

Mikoto showed her annoyance by placing her free hand on her hip. "If you don't come out now, I will go straight to your father, Shisui."

Immediately I heard a rustle from behind and Shisui came out from a bush I'd apparently missed in my panic, wearing a mulish face expression. "He won't punish me even if you tell."

Mikoto raised an elegant eyebrow. "Oh?"

Shisui jutted his lower lip out. "Me 'n Micchan are going to see 'Bito-nii." He glared at Mikoto a bit. "Dad woulda app- appro…liked us visiting him."

At the mention of Obito, Mikoto's face changed slightly. "Your dad would most likely have taken you if you'd waited and _asked_. But you escaped the daycare and went wandering out on your own."

"I wasn't alone! Micchan's with me!" Shisui argued.

"That makes it worse!" Mikoto snapped. "You're older than her and should be the responsible one." At this, I winced internally. Ouch… "Instead, you dragged Midori into trouble with you! And you weren't even together when I found you. Midori was by herself panicking!"

As I was mentally 19 years old (technically 21, if I added the years since my rebirth), this did not reflect well of my sense of responsibility. Sure, it would have been acceptable for a normal two year old to act like that, and I had mostly been panicking because I knew the limitations of my two year old body, but…

Mikoto's scolding Shisui made me feel thoroughly ashamed of myself.

"We're sorry." I burst out.

Shisui looked scandalized. "No I'm no– "

Stomping on Shisui's foot, I repeated, "We're _very_ sorry, Mikoto-nee-san. We were just worried about Obito-nii."

Shisui clearly disagreed with my emphatic apology, giving me an obviously unhappy look that could not have gone unnoticed by Mikoto. I wouldn't have been surprised if she dumped us back at the Uchiha playpen right then and there.

But she sighed and swept her bangs back, as if going through a weary inner conflict. "You do realize I should tell your parents about this, right?"

I hid a grimace; it would be the first time in my new life I would get scolded for something I had deliberately done, against my better judgement. But I deserved it. "I understand."

But Mikoto wasn't finished talking. "But I won't." I looked up, thinking for a moment I had misunderstood what she'd said. Sighing, she continued, "I was on my way to the hospital as well, and I've wasted too much time already… I guess I'll just take you along."

Before we could react, she picked the two of us up by our waists, and we dangled helplessly at her sides. "You two are heavier than you look."

Then we briefly rushed through what felt like a whirlwind and stopped at Konoha General Hospital. I looked over at Shisui hanging at Mikoto's other side, looking windswept, but awed.

"Whoa!" He exclaimed. "What was that, Mikoto-bassan?"

Eyebrow furrowing (most likely at being addressed as a disrespectful version of "auntie") Mikoto replied nonetheless, "Shunshin." before abruptly releasing her hold on Shisui's waist, causing him to drop to the ground with an 'oof'. She lowered me much more gently, which I was grateful for.

Rubbing his stomach area resentfully, Shisui asked Mikoto, "Whachu here for anyway? You don't seem sick."

Mikoto ignored him and led us into hospital. I couldn't recognize the kanji on the hospital signs yet, so I had to blindly follow her as she led us to a quiet but tense section of the hospital. It seemed like the intensive care unit. I felt a mixture of dread and hope come over me.

Was Obito really alive?

Mikoto paused to talk to a nurse, who peeked down at us and frowned. "Children aren't allowed in this ward." As Mikoto turned to give her a supposedly stern look, the nurse suddenly froze before deciding to ignore us completely. "Oh, you came alone?" She started leading us down a hallway, presumably to a room.

All the while, I was puzzling over that _weird_ interaction between the nurse and Mikoto. I didn't think my Japanese was _that_ bad, but maybe I was wrong. It wouldn't be the first time.

Then realization dawned on me. I nudged Shisui. He turned quietly, as if knowing subconsciously that I wanted our next conversation done fully in silence. I jerked my head at Mikoto and motioned toward my eyes, and gave him a questioning look. The following look and nod he gave me in return were confirmation.

Mikoto had used her sharingan on the nurse.

Was that a bit excessive for the sake of two kids? Probably. Especially since she barely knew me, and didn't seem all that fond of Shisui. Though that may just be how they normally interacted.

But I couldn't stop the spark of hope that had been kindling in my heart: that Obito was alive, and perhaps Mikoto had come to visit him as well. I had no idea about her precise relationship with Obito, but it was as likely as any other theory I had; it wasn't like I knew what Mikoto was at the hospital for.

With every step we took, I felt my heart thumping louder and louder in my chest, until we finally stopped at a door. My pool of knowledge in Kanji characters may not have been very wide at that point, but I knew my hiragana and katakana*: the name on the door read 'Uchiha Obito'.

 _[*hiragana and katakana are the basic Japanese alphabetical systems]_

Dismissing the nurse with a nod, Mikoto turned the doorknob, before looking back at Shisui and me and hesitating.

"Let me take a look first, okay?" She said almost compassionately, before shutting the door in our faces. Mikoto was either kind but bad at interacting with kids, or just very poorly two-faced.

It didn't take long before she opened the door again, her face maybe more pale than before. Before she could say anything, Shisui eagerly forced his way in. "'Bitos…san…" He trailed off in horror.

Shoot. The mentally youngest of us had barged in without any preparation whatsoever. Even I wasn't prepared for what was in there.

I looked fearfully up at Mikoto, who now wore a regretful expression as she led me in. "I was going to say, don't be surprised by how he looks."

Mikoto nudged me encouragingly toward the figure lying on the bed. "Go on. He's still Obito. He's probably awake now, since Shisui made all that noise."

I approached the bedside slowly. It was more frightening in real life than in the manga, seeing the bandages wrapped around his body. What was worse were all the clip-like objects fastened down on the bed around his torso, holding him together.

"Obito…nii?"

Later, I would think back upon all the details I had ignored, like how his right side still looked relatively intact, aside from his missing arm. How his left eye socket looked hollow. How his hair was slightly longer.

But right then, I was overcome by misery and what-ifs. Would things have gone differently if I'd told Minato? If I'd given Obito more details? If I'd…

"Why…are you crying, Midori-hime?"

Obito's voice sounded hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a while.

I swiped my tears away. "Why didn't you believe me?"

Obito managed a painful looking half grin. "I did. But I couldn't…leave a teammate…behind." My eyes started to fill with tears again; damn this childish body… "I asked Minato-sensei… to put a tracking seal on me, just in case…" He laughed weakly before wincing in pain. "That really saved my life… thought I would be stuck in that cave with – " He aborted what he was going to say mid-sentence and switched topics. "Well, I've awakened my sharingan now… so I'll bounce back stronger than before." He reached out with his one free limb – his left hand – and wiped my tears, albeit clumsily. "So thank you."

It took tremendous effort to hold further tears back. Why was he thanking me?

"'Bitossan…" Shisui finally asked quietly. "You ok?"

"Hey, cut it out with the old man routine already." Obito groaned.

Shisui seemed to perk up at this familiar reaction. "You _are_ the same 'Bitossan!"

"Of course I am!" Obito tried to look annoyed, but his grimace gave away just how much pain he was in.

Frowning, Shisui asked in the blunt way only kids could get away with, "Wha'z with your eye?"

The charged atmosphere I felt radiating from Mikoto made it clear, then and there, that her business at the hospital was about Obito's missing left eye as well. Whether she knew the whole story or had just heard rumors… I didn't know.

After a moment, Obito answered, "My teammate hurt his eye, so after I activated my sharingan, I gave him mine."

At this proclamation, I saw Mikoto clench her fists and a foreboding feeling came over me.

Horrified, Shisui exclaimed, "But didn't it hurt? You won't be able to see out of that eye forever, right?"

"Some sacrifices are worth making." Smiling Obito told him gently. "Besides, Kakashi is a genius, so he'll put my eye to good use! And we'll be able to work together better now." he coninued in a brighter tone.

Finally, Mikoto intervened with a hard voice. "Alright. You've seen Obito. We need to talk about shinobi matters, so you go wait outside for me to take you home."

Shisui and I found ourselves pushed out the door. We couldn't have been standing outside for more than five minutes, but to my childish body, it felt like an eternity.

I distracted myself by thinking about what Obito had said. He'd let slip something about a cave, so unless things had gone completely differently due to my intervention, he'd have met –

I faintly heard Mikoto raise her voice. "Gave- Kashi- shar-gan… what- thinking–" Obito's answer was too quiet to hear, but his answer provoked another harsh response from Mikoto. "-what do I- tell Father- elders- expel- clan–"

At this, I couldn't stop a sharp intake of breath. "Obito-nii might get expelled from the…" Kishimoto had never covered the Uchiha clan's reaction to Obito's willful gift to Kakashi.

Shisui crossed his arms stubbornly. "I'll get dad to stop them. 'Bito-nii shouldn't be punished. He should be hailed as a hero!"

Though I agreed aloud, I wasn't so sure Kyouei had enough power or influence within the Uchiha clan especially since he'd given up the clan head position so cavalierly.

A while later, Mikoto exited the room exuding a calm that belied the raised voice I'd heard from behind the closed door.

I felt a bit sick. I had known with my mind what Obito had sacrificed for Kakashi, but what must it have felt like, having your eye removed from your skull? What had been running through Obito's mind, as Rin had tearfully performed the surgery? What must it have felt like to wake up after having faced death gladly for your teammate?

Wordlessly, the three of us returned to the Uchiha daycare, and Shisui and I were fussed over by Emi-obasan. Mikoto covered for us, saying on our behalf that we were at a curious age, telling the matron it was a good thing that we'd come back safe and sound. I knew I would owe Mikoto for that, though I'd decided that I didn't really care.

I had other things to worry about, like the huge ugly butterfly I'd managed to grind into pieces.

…

Turns out that my parents would find out anyway, since Mikoto had gone ahead and told Shisui's dad, who'd told mine. Shisui sulked miserably for the whole day at the reaming out that Kyouei had given him.

But my dad was a baka-oya.

"My hime managed to escape from the playpen? She's a genius! You're so talented Midori-hime!"

Being complimented for a misdeed was almost worse than being scolded for it, and I endured nearly half an hour of dad's senseless babbling before he'd given me a tap – not even a slap, but a tap – on the wrist.

"It's ok to tell a grown up what you want to do next time. Odds are, they'll be willing to help."

A month and a half had passed before Shisui and I were able to visit Obito again. Finally, his condition was stable enough to be moved to a ward that allowed children, so Shisui begged his father to take him to visit every day.

I didn't want to face the consequences of my impulsive and half-baked actions, so I had mixed feelings when my parents assumed that I wanted to visit him as well and took turns with Kyouei to walk us to the hospital every other day.

Obito welcomed us with as good humor as he possibly could, stuck in bed as he was.

On one occasion when Kyouei was our chaperone, Obito burst out as if he couldn't take it anymore, "Do you think it's a waste too, Kyouei-jisan? That I gave my sharingan to Kakashi? If so, just say it!"

Shisui and I looked at each other uneasily. It wasn't often we'd seen Obito lose his temper. I'd known that Obito was hot-headed, but that was mostly around Kakashi, not little kids like us.

From his sitting position in the chair, Kyouei said calmly, "What you do with your own eyes is none of my business. From what I've heard, it was the best decision at the time."

Clenching his single fist, Obito growled, "You don't have to stay neutral. Tell me how you really feel, Jisan."

Sighing, Kyouei stood up and walked over to Obito's bed. "I think what you did was admirable." He looked Obito in the eye. "That's how I truly feel."

At Kyouei's words, I saw Obito's eyes tear up a bit.

"…Cousin Mikoto said there'd be a bunch of elders that want to expel me from the clan…is it true?"

Kyouei was silent for a moment, before saying carefully, "There is a faction of elders that have mentioned that, yes. But The majority of the clan either opposes it or are neutral."

Shisui finally put in his two cents. "Tou-chan will do everything he can to keep you in the clan, right, Tou-chan?"

Huffing a bit, Kyouei placed a hand on Shisui's head. "'Course I will, sport." I thought his smile looked a bit sad, though.

…

On May 20th, I turned three. It was the first time my dad would celebrate my birthday with me, and the first time Obito would not. Obito was laying in a hospital bed, immobile.

Instead, Minato had brought his two other students, perhaps trying to make up for Obito's absence. The only thing I felt was further pressure, as if I were being squeezed from all directions. I wondered if I should just become a hermit after I became old enough. But I'd already made changes, what was to say it would be any better if I isolated myself?

I tried not to think about it, and was successful for the most part, as there were other people and presents to distract me.

Shisui and his dad got me practice shuriken and kunai. I handled them cautiously before I saw that they were merely weighted with dulled edges. Kushina and Minato gave me a set of brushes, as my original ones were now a bit small and worn.

Rin gave me something that looked like potted daisies, which Shisui wrinkled his nose at from behind Rin's back.

"Thank you very much…" I said slowly, privately thinking that daisies didn't really need to be potted, and wondering where on earth she got the idea that that of all plants, I would want flowers, and of all flowers, I would want _daisies_. My favorite flower, if I had to choose, would be calla lilies. And the only plants I'd water faithfully were plants used for cooking, like chives, sesame leaves, or vegetables.

As if reading my mind, Rin explained, "It's called _anacetum parthenium_ , commonly known as Feverfew. You show signs of headaches every so often, and I thought it would help. You can brew tea, or even chew on the flowers or leaves in a pinch."

I was somewhat surprised that someone noticed my headaches. Was I that obvious? Rin smiled and whispered, "I'm a medic-nin, remember? I'm trained to recognize people trying to hide their health problems."

Well, that put the issue to bed quite neatly, though I wondered whether all medics had that same ability.

As for Minato's other student…after the Kannabi bridge incident, Kakashi had undergone a change in attitude. After all, thinking your teammate had died for your sake due to your carelessness was bound to shock you into shape. Unfortunately, it didn't make him any less annoying.

"What would you do if I said I didn't bring a present, Onion-brat?" Kakashi stared flatly at me with a single eye.

I chirped with false cheer, "I'd be relieved!"

"Kakashi. Even if it wasn't Midori-chan's birthday, it's not acceptable to call her names." Minato sternly chastised.

Meeting my glare with a calm gaze, Kakashi amended, "Fine. Onion- _chan_." Afterward, he turned back to me and said, "That's too bad, since I _did_ bring a present, but at least I'll know not to bring a present if I come next time." He held out a small, unwrapped box.

Tilted past my boiling point, I was _seething._ I snatched the box from his hand, managing to resist my dearest desire to crush it underfoot – I probably didn't have the strength anyway. I ignored the itchy feeling in the back of my mind, and trembling, not with anticipation, but with _anger_ , I opened it.

Only to be engulfed in a cloud of smoke.

I _knew_ I should've stomped on that box!

Minato and Rin exclaimed disapprovingly, "Kakashi!"

Waving the smoke away, I coughed and spluttered, "You…you _trapped_ the box!?"

Crossing his arms, Kakashi said calmly, "My present is a lesson on caution. No ninja worth his kunai opens boxes blindly."

Shooting Kakashi a death glare (though the effect may or may have been reduced by my watery eyes), I gingerly picked up the book on traps that had been unsealed and ground out a, "Thank. You."

"Mm." Kakashi answered nonchalantly.

Shisui, who'd kept his distance because he hadn't met Kakashi before, finally stepped forward. "That was mean. I dunno why 'Bito-nii gave his eye to you. You're _mean._ "

Everybody froze. Minato was the first to recover and speak, "Shisui-kun didn't mean that, Kakashi."

Flicking his single eye back at his teacher, Kakashi rebutted, "Children at that age don't say things they don't mean."

Shisui huffed angrily at Minato, "Yeah! I meant it!" before Kyouei hastily picked him up and shushed him.

Kyouei apologized, "I'm sorry, Kakashi-kun, Minato-san. My son is too young to know the circumstances."

Kakashi shook his head, "No, your son is correct. I don't deserve this eye." He turned and was shortly gone, reducing the party to an awkward silence.

Rin exited shortly afterward, making her excuses, probably to go after Kakashi and make sure he didn't do anything stupid. She knew better than to try and comfort him.

My dad came through for me, boosting the mood up again by loudly presenting me a book on making and breaking codes. He gave me a knowing wink, as I clutched it with barely concealed excitement. I didn't have to struggle through making a whole new language anymore! Shisui looked excited too, hovering over my shoulder as I flipped through the pages. Dad had gone through the book, marking the kanji he correctly predicted I wouldn't be able to read. Thanks to his edits, I could understand about 80% of it.

The physically biggest present was saved for last.

Kaa-chan slid over a relatively flat box the size of my torso wrapped in green wrapping paper. Curious, I peeled it open and saw a backpack full with school supplies.

"Congratulations! You're enrolled in the Academy, and you'll start with Shisui-kun this summer quarter!" Kaa-san said with a smile on her face.

"Yes!" Shisui, of course, felt no qualms about displaying his excitement. "Micchan's going to the Academy!"

Kyouei smiled down at me. "Shisui was waiting for you to turn three so you two could go to the Academy together."

I felt an odd sensation well up in me. I couldn't quite tell what it was; it felt like regret mixed with nostalgia, perhaps a bit of panic. Quashing the feeling with tremendous effort, I pasted a grin onto my face and saluted Shisui. "I'll trust you to watch my back, Shikkun."

Shisui grinned ear to ear and saluted back in response.

Now if only I could learn the henge technique to change my hair color before school started…

* * *

A/N: It seems that Self Inserts are more psychologically self reflective than I realized. =.=;;

It is a happy coincidence that I like calla lilies, since they symbolize 'rebirth'.


End file.
